Bobbed Haired Woman Blues by Sloppy Henry Lyrics
Monday morning the poor boy made his round
Monday evening shot his bobbed haired woman down
He wanted to go home, get in his bed
And put a thirty-two-twenty right under his head
Early Tuesday morning by the rising sun
Boy got up and all to make his run
He made his run and he run too slow
Then they overtaken the boy down in Jericho
Standin' on the corner, he was readin' a bill
Up stepped a man he called Hector Hill
Says to the boy, "Ain't your name Lee Brown?
Don't you 'member Monday evenin' you shot your woman down?"
"Yes, oh yes,", he says, "They call me Lee
Got any readin's, please read it to me"
He read, "Kansas City, Kansas, you know best
Come and go with me boy, the judge'll tell you the rest"
That mornin' he 's arrested, he was dressed in black
Then the high sheriff carried him back
He had nobody, now, to go his bail
They laid the poor boy, safe, over in county jail
Early that mornin', just at half past nine
He spied the jailer comin' on down the line
He heard the jailer clear up his throat
He said, "Boy, you get ready for the justice court!"
Justice court is now in hand
Introduced to the boy twelve big honest men
Jury do verdict, murder in the first degree
Then the boy cried, "Lord, do have mercy on me!"
He seed the judge pick up his pen
"I don't think you'll kill a bob-haired woman again
Give him lifetime, pickin' up this ground"
He says, "Run and tell my Mama I'm on my last go-round"
Monday evening shot his bobbed haired woman down
He wanted to go home, get in his bed
And put a thirty-two-twenty right under his head
Early Tuesday morning by the rising sun
Boy got up and all to make his run
He made his run and he run too slow
Then they overtaken the boy down in Jericho
Standin' on the corner, he was readin' a bill
Up stepped a man he called Hector Hill
Says to the boy, "Ain't your name Lee Brown?
Don't you 'member Monday evenin' you shot your woman down?"
"Yes, oh yes,", he says, "They call me Lee
Got any readin's, please read it to me"
He read, "Kansas City, Kansas, you know best
Come and go with me boy, the judge'll tell you the rest"
That mornin' he 's arrested, he was dressed in black
Then the high sheriff carried him back
He had nobody, now, to go his bail
They laid the poor boy, safe, over in county jail
Early that mornin', just at half past nine
He spied the jailer comin' on down the line
He heard the jailer clear up his throat
He said, "Boy, you get ready for the justice court!"
Justice court is now in hand
Introduced to the boy twelve big honest men
Jury do verdict, murder in the first degree
Then the boy cried, "Lord, do have mercy on me!"
He seed the judge pick up his pen
"I don't think you'll kill a bob-haired woman again
Give him lifetime, pickin' up this ground"
He says, "Run and tell my Mama I'm on my last go-round"