| When you got no more assurance
|
| Than a great big hunk o' lead
|
| If you don’t respond to romance
|
| Jack, you’re dead
|
| When a chick is smilin' at you
|
| Even though there’s nothin' said
|
| You stand there like a statue
|
| Jack, you’re dead
|
| You been always kickin'
|
| But you stubbed your toes
|
| When you ups and kicks the bucket
|
| Just like ole man Mose'
|
| When you get no kicks from lovin'
|
| And you blow your top instead
|
| It’s a fact that you ain’t livin'
|
| Jack, you’re dead
|
| When you just ain’t got nobody
|
| Since you gone and lost your head
|
| Rigor mortis has set in, daddy
|
| Jack, you’re dead
|
| What’s the use of havin' muscles
|
| If your life hangs by a thread
|
| If you ain’t got no red corpuscles
|
| Jack, you’re dead
|
| You been always kickin'
|
| But you stubbed your toes
|
| When you ups and kicks the bucket
|
| Just like ole man Mose'
|
| When you get no kicks from lovin'
|
| And the news begins to spread
|
| All the cats will holler «murder»
|
| Jack, you’re dead
|
| All the breath has leaked out of you
|
| If your friends gather round the bed
|
| And look at you and say «Mm mm, don’t he look natural?»
|
| When that happens to you, daddy Jack, you’re dead |