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I'm A Bad Bad Man

This song is by Jim Jackson and appears on the compilation album Jim Jackson Vol. 1 (1927-1928) (1992).

Oh, I went down, turkey feast
People behaving just as like wild beasts
Had everything, money could 'ford
People had enough for to feel most full

A one-eyed girl, her name was Lizzie
I looked in her face and she made me dizzy
She turned around, tried to flush
With hair on her head like a scrubbing brush
She looked like one grizzly bear

Oysters stewed, oysters fried
Oysters down there had never died
Strawberry shortcake, cake wasn't short
The chickens had never been bought

Big Black Dooley, from the West
He had bullet holes through his chest
He got down, walked right in
All he wanted, a drink of gin

Little Mac Dooley went to draw his knife
Draw his knife for just to swear my life
Swear my life, I'll be gone
When I get there, I'm gwine sing this song

I'm a bad, bad man
From bad, bad land
Nobody knows how bad I am
I don't care, police, judge and a jury
I'm a man from the bad, bad land

Well, it's put on your slick shoes, chillens
Sprinkle an' paint, you want to paint
Now, don't disgrace our colored race
Now listen to what I say
Go and put on your slick shoes, chillens
It's time to make your mark
Now don't come yella, but come the right color
For God's sake, don't come dark

For I'm a bad, bad man
From bad, bad land
Nobody knows how bad I am
I don't care, police, judge or a jury
I'm a man from a bad, bad land

Give a colored man a white handle razor
And a crap game he will find
He makes these other boys scatter quick
They go at any time
Don't fuss, sir, with his money
For when he lays it down
He'll chop enough meat off of your head
For to feed all the dogs in town

For he's a bad, bad man
From bad, bad land
Nobody knows how bad I am
I don't care, police, judge and a jury
I'm a man from a bad, bad land

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