Don't Mess Around With Jim

Well, uptown got its hustlers
And the Bowery got its bums
42nd Street got Big Jim Walker
He’s a pool shootin' son of a gun
Yeah, he’s big and dumb as a man can come
He’s stronger than a country horse
And when the bad folks all get together at night
They all call Big Jim, 'Boss'
Just because, yeah, they say you don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off the ol' lone ranger
And you don’t mess around with Jim, oh no
From the south of Alabama come a country boy
He said, «I'm looking for a man named Jim
Now I am a pool shootin' boy, my name is Willie McCoy
Down home, folks call me Slim»
I’m lookin' for the man on 42nd Street
He’s drivin' some drop top Cadillac
And I know it sounds funny
That he took all my money
Now I come to get my money back
Everybody say, «Jack»
And they say, «You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off the Ole Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Jim»
A hush fell over the pool room
As Jimmy walked in off the street
And when the cutting was done
The only part that wasn’t bloody
Was the souls of the big man’s feet
He was cut in a million places
And was shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They told a different kinda story
When Big Jim hit the floor
And they say, «You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off the Ole Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Slim»
You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off the Ole Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Slim
You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off the Ole Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Slim