Well, I sing you a song, ain't very long,
about an old man who never done wrong.
How he died, nobody can say.
Found him dead in the street one day.
A mile of crowd, they gathered one fine morning.
The man whose clothes and shoes were torn.
There on the sidewalk, he did lay.
They stopped and stared and went their way.
A policeman come and he looked around.
Get up old man or I'm taking you down.
He jabbed him once with his bullet club.
The old man then rolled off the curb.
Well, he jabbed him again,
loudly said,
call the wagon, this man is dead.
Well, the wagon come and they loaded him in.
Never saw the man again.
Well, I sing you my song,
wasn't very long,
about an old man who never done wrong.
How he died, no one can say.
Found him dead in the street one day.