Stagolee - Stackalee Frank Hutchinson, Mississippi John Hurt, Bob Dylan Stagolee, he was a bad man, ev’rybody know He toted a stack-barreled blow gun and a blue steel fourty-four Way down in New Orlean’, called the Lyon club Ev’ry step you walkin’, you walkin’ in Billy Lyon blood It was early one mornin’ when I heard my little dog bark Stagolee and Billy Lyon was arg’in in the dark Stagolee and Billy Lyon was gamblin’ one night late Stagolee fell Seven, Billy Lyon, he fell Eight Slowly Stack walked from the table, said: I can’t let you go with that You win all of my money and my milk-white Stetson hat Stagolee, he went walkin’ right down that I.C. track Said: I ain’t gonna hurt you now, Billy, but better not be here when I get back! Next day Stack went runnin’ in the red-hot broilin’ sun Said: Look in my chiffro drawer, Alberta, hand me my smokeless fourty-four Alberta looked at Stack, said: Babe, you’re all of breath You look like you gonna be the cause of somebody’s death Stack took out his Elgin, looked directly at the time Said: I got an argument to settle with that bad man Billy Lyon Well, he got outside in front of the barroom and he eased up to the door Billy Lyon had his fourty-four special, pacin’ up and down the floor Billy Lyon began to scream: Stack, don’t take my life I’ve got five li’l chillun* and one po’ pitiful wife He shot him three times in the forehead and two times in the side Said: I’m goin’ keep on shootin’ till Billy Lyon died Billy Lyon got glassy, and he gapped and hung his head Stack says: I know by expression on his face that Billy Lyon’s dead   alles-uke.de