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(Charlie Poole)

Frankie and Johnny were sweethearts; they had a quarrel one day,
Johnny vowed he'd leave her; he said he was going away,
Never coming home, going away to roam.

Frankie she begged and pleaded, my love Johnny, please stay,
Now, oh, my honey, I've done you wrong, but please don't go away;
Then Johnny sighed while Frankie cried,

cho: Oh, I'm going away, I'm a-going to stay, and never coming home
Gonna miss me, honey, in the days to come,
When the winter wind s begin to blow, the ground is covered up,
And when you think of the way
You're gonna wish me back, your loving man,
You're gonna miss me honey in the day they say's to come.

Frankie done said to her Johnny, "Now your hour done come"
'Cause underneath her silk kimona she drew her 44 gun
These love affairs are hard to bear

Johnny he fled down the stairway, my love Frankie, don't shoot,
Frankie done aimed the 44 while the gun went rooty-toot-toot,
As Johnny fell, then Frankie yelled,


Send for your rubber-tired hearses, send for your rubber-tired hacks,
Carry old Johnny to the graveyard, I 've shot him in the back
With a great big gun, as the preacher begun.

Send for some policemen to take me right away,
Lock me down in the dungeon cell and throw the key away,
My Johnny's dead, because he said...


From the New Lost City Ramblers
Note: A Charlie Poole rewrite of a popular song.
DT #316
Laws I3
@murder @death
filename[ FRANJON3

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