Everybody wouldn't know why I sing the blues. In 1925, the cries of a newborn baby rang out from a sharp-puffer's cabin over the cotton fields of the Mississippi Delta. A boy was born that day, was going to make a difference. His name, Riley B. King. The baby King's not just great. He's like, great. One note, you know, he's all it takes. The note with the vibrato. One note, one note, one note. I can hear the baby King with the sound off on the TV. Just by looking at his face. What do you want to do with your music? You know what you're saying? I'd like the whole world to give the hear, baby King singing, play the blues. Baby King, the life of Riley. The children running down my face. Oh, when I woke up early in the morning.