BWMcT must have recorded this song more than once. I found a couple of lines here that didn't jibe with my memory of the song, so I went back thru the version I have, copied it as close to word for word as I can get, and still found some things that don't fit. A couple of things I'm sure of, tho' — his singing/playing is so loose that it's almost impossible to separate it into neat verses. Some appear to have four lines, some three, some two and some are just impossible to know. Words that are definitely different from those here are, in the second verse and later the reference to the hotel — it's the "Hamilton," not the "Hampton." Paul Geremia does a great version of this song.... For what it's worth, here's my take on it.... DYIN' CRAPSHOOTER'S BLUES By Blind Willie McTell Little Jesse was a gambler, night and day He used crooked cards and dice. He was a sinful boy, good hearted but had no soul His heart was hard and cold like ice Little Jesse was a wild reckless gambler Won a gang of change And many a gambler's heart he left in pain Little Jesse began to lose his money But he was all alone And his heart had even turned to stone. (What had little Jesse blue and all alone Sweet Lorena had packed up and gone) The police walked up and shot my friend Jesse down He said boys I got to die today He had a gang of crapshooters and gamblers at his bedside But here's the words he had to say: Guess I ought to know How I wants to go (How you wanna go, Jesse?) I wants eight crapshooters for my pallbearers Let 'em all be dressed down in black I want nine men going to the graveyard, But only eight mens comin' back I wants a gang of gamblers gathered 'round my coffin-side With a crooked card printed on my hearse Don't say the crapshooters'll ever grieve over me My life's been a doggone curse Send poker players to the graveyard Dig my grave with the ace of spades I want twelve polices in my funeral march High sheriff playin' blackjack, leadin' the parade I want the judge and solic'ter who jailed me 14 times To put a pair of dice in my shoes Let a deck of cards be my tombstone I got the dyin' crapshooter's blues I want sixteen real good crapshooters Sixteen bootleggers to sing a song Sixteen buck riders gamblin' With a couple o' tens borrowed while I'm rollin' along He wanted 22 womens outta the Hamilton Hotel Twenty-six offa South Bell Twenty-nine women outta North Atlanta Know little Jesse didn't pass out so swell His head was achin', heart was thumpin' Little Jesse went to hell bouncin' and jumpin' Folks, don't be standin' around Jesse cryin' He wants everybody to do the Charleston whilst he dyin' One foot up, a toenail dragging Throw my buddy Jesse in the hoodoo wagon Come here mama with that can of booze The dyin crapshooter's — leavin' the world The dyin' crapshooter''s — goin' down slow With the dyin' crapshooter's blues. cheers, david
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