Theyre Hanging Old Jonesy Tomorrow by Bob Miller Lyrics
They say old Bill Jones is a horse thief
And they’ll hang him tomorrow at noon
We all knew he’d be caught but no one ever thought
He’d die from throat trouble so soon
They’re hanging old Jonesy tomorrow
When they swing him he won’t touch the ground
Though it’s hard to believe, we don’t think he will grieve
For he’s so used to hanging around
He’s always been fond of his liquor
And his hard drinking got him in Dutch
But the more booze he lapped, for when they spring the trap
Poor old Jones will take onе drop too much
They’re hanging old Jonesy tomorrow
As an actor hе once was a wow!
When he makes his last stand they won’t give him a hand
And we don’t think that he’ll take a bow
Oh, Jonesy has never been nervous
Always calm ever since he was young
Cold as ice as a rule, so collected and cool
But tomorrow night he’ll feel high-strung
When full he would swing on his misses
And he’d swing on the whole family
No one could make him stop; he would swing on a cop
But tomorrow he’ll swing on a tree
For years he has not worn a collar
Always careless, he’d look like a wreck
Now his wife says that she will be tickled to see
The old man with something round his neck
They’re hanging old Jonesy tomorrow
And they say horse thieves suffer remorse
He is so very dense, and he has no horse sense
So what did he want with a horse?
And they’ll hang him tomorrow at noon
We all knew he’d be caught but no one ever thought
He’d die from throat trouble so soon
They’re hanging old Jonesy tomorrow
When they swing him he won’t touch the ground
Though it’s hard to believe, we don’t think he will grieve
For he’s so used to hanging around
He’s always been fond of his liquor
And his hard drinking got him in Dutch
But the more booze he lapped, for when they spring the trap
Poor old Jones will take onе drop too much
They’re hanging old Jonesy tomorrow
As an actor hе once was a wow!
When he makes his last stand they won’t give him a hand
And we don’t think that he’ll take a bow
Oh, Jonesy has never been nervous
Always calm ever since he was young
Cold as ice as a rule, so collected and cool
But tomorrow night he’ll feel high-strung
When full he would swing on his misses
And he’d swing on the whole family
No one could make him stop; he would swing on a cop
But tomorrow he’ll swing on a tree
For years he has not worn a collar
Always careless, he’d look like a wreck
Now his wife says that she will be tickled to see
The old man with something round his neck
They’re hanging old Jonesy tomorrow
And they say horse thieves suffer remorse
He is so very dense, and he has no horse sense
So what did he want with a horse?