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

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