Dying Crapshooters Blues

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, one of gang of change
And a-many gambler's heart he left in playin'
Little Jesse began to lose his money, but he was all alone
And his heart had even turned to stone

The police walked up and shot my friend Jesse down
The boy forgot to die today
He had a gang of craps shooters and gamblers at his bedside
But here are the words he had to say

I guess I ought to know how I wants to go
(How you wanna go, Jesse?)
I wants eight crap shooters for my pallbearers
Let 'em all be dressed down in black
I want nine men going to the graveyard
But only eight men's coming back
I wants a gang of gamblers gathered around my coffin side
With a crooked card printed on my hearse
Don't say the crap shooters'll never 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 solicitor who jailed me fourteen times
Put a pair of dice in my shoes
Let a deck of cards be my tombstone
I got the dyin' crap shooter's blues

I want sixteen real good crap shooters
Sixteen bootleggers to sing a song
Sixteen buck riders gamblin'
With a couple tens barred while I'm rollin' along

He wanted twenty-two women out of the Hamilton Hotel
Twenty-six off of South Bell
Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta
Know that little Jesse didn't pass out so swell
His head was aching, heart was thumpin'
Little Jesse went down, bouncin' and jumpin'
Folks don't be standin' around Jesse cryin'
He wants everybody to do the Charleston while he's dyin'

One foot up, a toenail draggin'
Throw my body, Jesse, in the hoo-doo wagon
Come here, mama, with that can of booze
He got the dyin' crap shooter's blues
Passin' out with the dyin' crap shooter's blues