Lyrics post!
I like Jim Croce. So sue me. This is one of the first songs I remember hearing and realizing that sometimes, songs tell stories. I was probably around eleven or so.
"You Don't Mess Around With Jim"
Jim Croce
Uptown got its hustlers
The Bowery got its bums
And 42nd Street's got big Jim Walker
He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun
Yeah, he's big and dumb as a man can come
But he stronger than a country hoss
And when the bad folks all get together at night
You know they all call big Jim boss; just because, and they say
{Refrain}
You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Jim, da do da do...
Well, out of south Alabama come a country boy
He said, "I'm lookin' for a man named Jim.
I am a pool-shootin' boy, my name is Willie McCoy--
But down home they call me Slim.
And I'm lookin' for the king of 42nd Street;
He's driving a drop-top Cadillac--
Last week he took all my money, and it may sound funny,
But I've come to get my money back," and everybody said, whoo! Jack, don't you know
{Refrain}
Well a hush fell over the pool room
When Jim he come boppin' in off the street.
And when the cuttin' was done,
The only part that wasn't bloody was the soles of the big man's feet.
And he was cut in 'bout a hundred places,
And he was shot in a couple more,
And you better believe they sung a different kind of story
When big Jim hit the floor.
{Refrain}
You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Slim, da, do, da, do...
{Repeat}
{Spoken}
Yeah, big Jim got his hat--
Find out where it's at,
And not out hustlin' people strange to you,
Even if you do got a two-piece custom made pool cue . . . .
{Refrain}
"You Don't Mess Around With Jim"
Jim Croce
Uptown got its hustlers
The Bowery got its bums
And 42nd Street's got big Jim Walker
He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun
Yeah, he's big and dumb as a man can come
But he stronger than a country hoss
And when the bad folks all get together at night
You know they all call big Jim boss; just because, and they say
{Refrain}
You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Jim, da do da do...
Well, out of south Alabama come a country boy
He said, "I'm lookin' for a man named Jim.
I am a pool-shootin' boy, my name is Willie McCoy--
But down home they call me Slim.
And I'm lookin' for the king of 42nd Street;
He's driving a drop-top Cadillac--
Last week he took all my money, and it may sound funny,
But I've come to get my money back," and everybody said, whoo! Jack, don't you know
{Refrain}
Well a hush fell over the pool room
When Jim he come boppin' in off the street.
And when the cuttin' was done,
The only part that wasn't bloody was the soles of the big man's feet.
And he was cut in 'bout a hundred places,
And he was shot in a couple more,
And you better believe they sung a different kind of story
When big Jim hit the floor.
{Refrain}
You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Slim, da, do, da, do...
{Repeat}
{Spoken}
Yeah, big Jim got his hat--
Find out where it's at,
And not out hustlin' people strange to you,
Even if you do got a two-piece custom made pool cue . . . .
{Refrain}