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