I'm a pistol packing papa, and when I walk down the street
You can hear those mamas shoutin': Don't turn your gun on me!
Now girls, I'm just a good guy, and I'm goin' to have my fun
And if you don't wanna smell my smoke, don't monkey with my gun!
Like a hobo when he's hungry, like a drunk man when he's full
I'm a pistol packing papa, I know how to shoot the bull
The hold-up men all know me, and they sure leave me be
I'm a pistol packin' papa, and I ramble where I please
When I have that funny feeling that lorryin'* ramblers call
I swing aboard some freight train, and I shoot my pistol off
Sometimes one shot will do me, sometimes takes four or five
Sometimes I shoot all around, before I'm satisfied
When you hear my pistol poppin', you better hide yourself some place
'Cause I ain't made it for stoppin', and I come from a shootin' race
My sweatheart understands me, she says I am her big shot
I'm her pistol packin' daddy, and I know I've got the drop
You can hear my new sport roadster, you can take my hard-boil head
But you can't never take from me my silver-mounted gat**
I'm a pistol packin papa, I'm goin' to have my fun
Just follow me and you will hear the barking of my gun
* "riding" on a lorry, another word for "hoboing"...
** gangster slang for "pistol"