Lyrics
(One, two one, two, three, four)
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
Well, uptown got it's hustlers the
Bowery got it's bums
And forty second 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
But he's 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 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
Well, outta south Alabama come a country boy
He said I'm lookin' for a man named Jim
Well, I'm a pool shootin' boy
My name is Willie McCoy but down home
They call me Slim
Yeah I'm looking for the king
Of Forty Second Street
He driving a drop top Cadillac
Last week, he took all my money
And it may sound funny
But I come to get my money back
And everybody say Jack don't you know
You don't 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
Well, a hush fell over the pool room
Jimmy come bopping in off of the street
And when the cutting were done
The only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet
Yeah, he were cut in bout a hundred places
And he were shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They sung a different kind of story
When big Jim hit the floor
Now 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 old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Slim
No, no, no
You don't tug on Superman's cape
No, no, no
You don't tug on Superman's cape
WRITERS
James Croce
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
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Sexual
