Lyr. Add: Stackolee
Coll. John Hibbert

Stackolee was a bad man;
Everybody knows
Spent one hundred dollars
On them high-tone fancy whores.
They all loved Stackolee.
2
Billy Lyons said, "Stackolee,
Please don't take my life.
You make an orphan of my son,
And a widow of my wife."
Mean old bad man, Stackolee.
3
"I don't give a damn for your son.
I don't give a damn for your wife.
You done stole my Statson hat.
I'm going to take your life."
Mean old bad man, Stackolee.
4
What do you know about this?
What the hell you know about that?
Stackolee killed Billy Lyons
Over a damned old Stetson hat.
Poor old Stackolee.
5
They took him to the jailhouse
And they threw his ass in a cell.
All the pimps and whores went on down
To bid poor Stack farewell.
Poor old Stackolee.
6
Policeman said to Stackolee-
His eyes all filled with tears-
"The judge sure won't be hard on you;
He'll just give you ninety-nine years."
Poor old Stackolee.
7
Stack's girl was a good girl,
None of that low-down trash.
I'll make the bail for Stackolee,
Give that sheriff a piece of ass."
Poor old Stackolee.
8
She hustled in the morning.
She hustled in the night.
She got so thin from hustling
She was an awful sight.
She'd get the dough for Stackolee.
9
One night it rained like hell
And she had an awful time.
She said, "I won't break Stackolee's luck."
She shook her fanny for a dime,
Making bail for Stackolee.
10
Then she got a dirty old crib
Right behind the jail.
She hung a sign on the front door:
"Fresh fish here for sale."
She'd get the bail for Stackolee.
11
One night she had more bad luck.
An old nigger gave her a buck.
She said, "You know I got no change,
So give yourself another fuck.
For poor old Stackolee."
12
One night there came a telephone call
And everybody cried.
It said that at nine o'clock
Poor old Stack had fried.
Means a funeral for Stackolee.
13
When Stackolee's girl friend
Heard this awful news,
She was lyin' on the torn bedspread
Havin' the electric chair blues,
Havin' the blues for Stackolee.
14
When they got to the graveyard
And saw that awful hole,
Those pimps and whores fell on their knees
And asked the Lord to save their souls.
Poor old Stackolee.
15
A high yeller pimp stepped out,
Said, "I ain't got much to say,"
Pulled a bindle and took a shot,
Said, "Like Stack, I'm on my way."
Poor old Stackolee.
16
They laid out poor old Stackolee
And laid him in his last hole.
All the whores and pimps gathered 'round and said
"Lord have mercy on his soul.
Poor old Stackolee."

Ed Cray, 1992, The Erotic Muse," Univ. Illinois Press (2nd Ed.).
pp. 149-152 with brief musical score.