Stackolee

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Stackolee  
Henry, Ramsey, 17 November 1965, #1A

It was back in the time of nineteen hundred and two,
I had a fucked-up deck a cards and I didn't know what to do.
My woman was leavin', she was puttin' me out in the cold.
I said, "Why you leavin' me, baby?" She said, "Our love has grown old."
So she kept packin' the bags, so I said, "Fuck it," you know.
So I waded through water and I waded through mud
and I came to this town called the Bucket of Blood.
And I asked the bartender for something to eat,
he give me a dirty glass a water and a tough-assed piece a meat.
I said, "Bartender, bartender, don't you know who I am?"
He said, "Frankly, my man, I don't give a goddam."
I said, "My name is Stackolee." He said, "Oh, yes, I heard about you up this way,
but I feed you hungry motherfuckers each and every day."
'Bout this time the poor bartender had gone to rest-
I pumped six a my rockets [bullets] in his motherfucken chest.
A woman run out the back screamin' real loud, said, "I know my son ain't dead!"
I said, "You just check that hole in the ugly motherfucker's head."
She say "You may be bad, your name may be Stack,
but you better not be here when Billy Lyons get back."
So I walked around the room and I seen this trick,
and we went upstairs and we started real soon.
Now me and this broad we started to tussle
and I drove twelve inches a dick through her ass before she could move a muscle.
We went downstairs where we were before,
we fucked on the table and all over the floor.
'Bout that time you could hear the drop of a pin-
that bad motherfucker Billy Lyons had just walked in.

He walked behind the counter, seen the bartender dead,
he say, "Who put this hole in this ugly motherfucker's head."

Say, "Who can this man's murderer be?"
One motherfucker say, "You better speak soft, his name is Stackolee."
He say, "Stack, I'm gonna give you a chance to run before I draw my gun."
Bitch jumped up and said, "Billy, please."
He shot that whore through both her knees.
A pimp eased up and turned out the lights
and I had him dead in both my sights.
When the lights came back on poor Billy had gone to rest,
I had pumped nine a my rockets in his motherfucken chest.
The next day about half-past ten
I was standin' before the judge and twelve good other men.
They say, "What can this man's charges be?"
One sonofabitch say, "Murder in the first degree."

Another say, "What can this man's penalty be?"
One say, "Hang him," another say, "Give him gas."
A snaggle-tooth bitch jumped up and say,
"Run that twister through his jivin' ass!"
My woman jumped up and said, "Let him go free,
'cause there ain't nobody in the world can fuck like Stackolee."


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