| Frankie and Johnny were lovers —
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| Lord, how they did love.
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| They swore to be true to each other,
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| True as the stars above;
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| He was her man, but he was doing her wrong.
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| Frankie, she was a good girl —
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| Everybody should know,
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| She paid one hundred dollars
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| To buy Johnny a new suit of clothes.
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| He was her man, but he was doing her wrong.
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| Frankie went down to the corner,
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| Just for a glass of beer;
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| She said to the fat bartender,
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| «Has my lovin' Johnny been here?
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| Have you seen my man? |
| I think he’s doing me wrong.»
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| «Well, I don’t want to cause you no trouble,
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| And I don’t want to tell you no lies,
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| But I seen your man about an hour ago
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| With a girl named Nellie Bly;
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| He was your man — I think he’s doing you wrong.»
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| Then Frankie went home in a hurry;
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| She didn’t go there for fun;
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| Frankie went home to get a-hold
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| Of Johnny’s six-shooting gun.
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| He was her man, but he done her wrong.
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| Frankie peeked over the transom
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| And there to her surprise
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| She saw her lovin-man Johnny
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| With that high-browed Nellie Bly.
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| He was her man, and he was doing her wrong.
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| Then Frankie pulled back her kimono,
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| And she pulled out a small .44
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| And root-e-toot-toot three times she shot
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| Right through that hardwood door.
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| She shot her man 'cos he was doing her wrong.
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| «Well roll me over on to my left side,
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| Roll me over so slow,
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| Roll me over on my left hand side, Frankie,
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| Them bullets hurt me so,
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| I was your man, but I was doing you wrong.»
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| Now, bring round your rubber-tired buggy,
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| And bring round your rubber-tired hack;
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| She’s taking her man to the graveyard
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| And she ain’t gonna bring him back.
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| She shot that man 'cos he was doing her wrong.
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| This story has no moral,
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| This story has got no end,
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| Well the story just goes to show you women
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| That there ain’t no good in the men.
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| He was her man, but he was doing her wrong |