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Uptown got it's hustlers |
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The bowery got it's bums |
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42nd street got Big Jim Walker |
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He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun |
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Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come |
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But he's stronger than a country horse |
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And when the bad folks all get together at night |
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You know they all call Big Jim boss |
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Just because |
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And they say |
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"You don't tug on Superman's cape |
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You don't spit into the wind |
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You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger |
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And you don't mess around with Jim" |
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Well, outta South Alabama came a country boy |
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He said, "I'm lookin' for a man named Jim" |
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I am a pool-shootin' boy, my name Willie McCoy |
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But down home they call me, 'Slim'" |
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Yeah, I'm lookin' for the king of 42nd street |
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He drivin' a drop top Cadillac |
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Last week he took all my money |
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And it may sound funny |
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But I've come to get my money back |
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And everybody say, "Jack, don't you know? |
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And you don't tug on Superman's cape |
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You don't spit into the wind |
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You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger |
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And you don't mess around with Jim" |
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Well, a hush fell over the pool room |
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Jimmy come boppin' in off the street |
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And when the cuttin' were done |
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The only part that wasn't bloody |
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Was the soles of the big man's feet |
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Yeah, he were cut in in 'bout a hundred places |
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And he were shot in a couple more |
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And you better believe |
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They sung a different kind of story |
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When big Jim hit the floor |
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Now they say |
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"You don't tug on Superman's cape |
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You don't spit into the wind |
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You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger |
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And you don't mess around with Slim" |
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Yeah, Big Jim got his hat |
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Find out where it's at |
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And it's not hustlin' people strange to you |
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Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue |
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Yeah, you don't tug on Superman's cape |
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You don't spit into the wind |
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You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger |
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And you don't mess around with Slim |
