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Frankie was a good woman, |
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As everybody knows, |
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She did all the work around the house |
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And pressed her Albert's clothes. |
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He was her man, but he done her wrong. |
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Albert was a yeller man, |
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Coal-black curly hair. |
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Everybody up in St. Louis |
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Thought he was a millionaire-- |
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He was my son, and the only one. |
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Miss Frankie went to the barroom, |
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Called for a bottle of beer, |
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Says to the bartender: |
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"Has Mister Albert been here? |
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He is my man, and he's doin' me wrong." |
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Frankie and Albert were lovers, |
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Oh, my God how they did love! |
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Just like sisters and brothers, |
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The whore and her turtle dove, |
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For he was her man, but she shot him down. |
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The bartender says to Miss Frankie: |
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"I cannot tell a lie; |
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Mister Albert was here about a minute ago |
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With a gal name Alkali, |
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He is your man, but he's doin' you wrong." |
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Little Frankie went down the Broadway |
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With her razor in her hand, |
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Says "Stand aside, you chippie. |
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I'm lookin' for my man, |
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He's a gamblin' man, won't treat me right." |
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Miss Frankie went up the stairway, |
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She didn't go for fun; |
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Underneath the ruffles of her petticoat, |
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She had a young Gatlin' gun. |
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He was her man an' he was doin' her wrong. |
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Miss Frankie opened the winder, |
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The gun she fired twice; |
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The second shot she fired, |
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She took Mister Albert's life-- |
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He was her man, but he was doin' her wrong. |
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Well, when Frankie shot Albert, |
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First, he fell to his knees, |
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Then he looked up in her face, |
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Says, "Frankie, please don't shoot me no mo', |
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Please, babe, don't shoot me no mo'." |
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She shot three bullets in him, |
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He staggered to the door, |
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He gasped, "Oh, Frankie, you can't play 'round, |
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'Round this hop joint any more. |
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I was your man, but I done you wrong. |
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"Turn me over, Frankie, |
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Turn me over slow, |
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Turn me over easy on my left side |
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So my heart won't overflow |
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And kill me dead, and kill me dead." |
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Took po' Albert to the graveyard, |
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Stuck him in the ground, |
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Frankie, she was singin', |
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"I shot the sucker down-- |
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He was my man, but he done me wrong." |
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The people says to Frankie, |
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"Little Frankie, why don't you run? |
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Yonder comes the Chief Police |
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With a smokeless 44 gun. |
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You killed your man, wouldn't treat you right." |
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"Well," says Miss Frankie, |
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I don't care if I die, |
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Take and hang me to a telegraph pole, |
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Hang me good and high-- |
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He was my man but he done me wrong." |
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Little Frankie went down Broadway |
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As far as she could see, |
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And all she could hear was a two-string bow, |
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Playing, "Nearer, My God To Thee"-- |
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All over the town, little Albert's dead. |
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Frankie went to Albert's mother, |
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Fell across her knees, |
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Said: "I'm sorry I killed your son, |
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Won't you excuse me please? |
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He was my man, but he done me wrong." |
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"I will forgive you, Frankie, |
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I will forgive you not. |
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You sho' shot Albert, |
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He's the only son I got, |
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He was my son, and the only one." |
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Frankie says to the sheriff, |
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"Well, what do you think it'll be?" |
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The sheriff said: "It looks like a case |
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Of murder in the first degree; |
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He was your man, but you shot him down." |
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It was not murder in the first degree, |
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It was not murder in the third, |
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A woman simply dropped her man |
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Like a hunter drops a bird. |
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He was her man, but she shot him down. |
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Frankie said to the sheriff, |
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"Oh, what do you think they'll do?" |
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"Strap you in the 'lectric chair, |
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'N' send thirty thousand volts through you. |
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Albert was your man, but you shot him down." |
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Passin' through the jail house, |
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Went by Frankie's cell, |
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Asked her how she was feelin', |
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She said, "Go to Hell." |
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He was her man, but she shot him down. |
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Once more I saw Frankie, |
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She was sittin' in her chair, |
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Waitin' for to go an' meet her God, |
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With the sweat drippin' out her hair. |
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Albert was her man, but she shot him down. |
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Took Frankie to the graveyard |
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And stuck her in the ground, |
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Now all that's left of Frankie |
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Is a wooden cross and mound. |
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He was her man- both dead and gone. |
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Two little pieces of crape, |
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Hangin' on the door, |
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Show that lovin' Albert |
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Ain't lovin' Albert no more. |
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Frankie shot her man, who was doin' her wrong. |
