I'll sing you a song, ain't very long,
'Bout an old man who never done wrong.
How he died no one can say,
They found him dead in the street one day.
Well, the crowd, they gathered one fine morn,
At the man whose clothes 'n' shoes were torn.
There on the sidewalk he did lay,
They stopped 'n' stared 'n' went their way.
Well, the p'liceman come and he looked around,
"Get up, old man, or I'm a-takin' you down."
He jabbed him once with his bully club
And the old man then rolled off the curb.
