You Don't Mess Around With Jim

 

Uptown got its hustlers. The bowery got it's bums.

42nd street got Big Jim Walker. He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun.

Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come, but he stronger than a country hoss

And when the bad folks all get together at night, you know they all call big Jim boss,

just because, And they say

 

You don't tug on superman's cape

You don't spit into the wind

You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger

And you don't mess around with jim

 

Well outta south alabama came a country boy, he say i'm lookin' for a man named Jim

I am a pool-shootin' boy. My name willie mccoy, but down home they call me slim.

Yeah i'm lookin' for the king of 42nd street. He drivin' a drop top cadillac

Last week he took all my money, and it may sound funny but I come to get my money back

And everybody say jack don't you know

 

Well a hush fell over the pool room, Jimmy come boppin' in off the street.

And when the cuttin' were done, the only part that wasn't bloody was the soles of the big man's feet

Yeah he were cut in bout a hundred places, and he were shot in a couple more

And you better believe they sung a different kind of story when big Jim hit the floor

Now they say

 

 

E         E         E         E

E         E         E         E

A         A         A         A

B7       A         B7       A

E         B7

 

A         E

A         E

A         A

B7       E

E         E

B7       B7