| She could be no good, I’m telling you
|
| Gather 'round boys for a tale that is tragic and true
|
| On the Mississippi riverboat, «Magnolia»
|
| No one onboard was smelling too sweet
|
| That precious one must have been stamping her feet
|
| Dictating demands all well and fine
|
| A few rods west of the Bridgeport line
|
| But the veil was drawn and the halo slipped
|
| Tippling tinctures and reciting scripture
|
| Faces where slapped just as kid gloves were suffered
|
| Vile threats were uttered and challenges were offered
|
| On the Cumberland riverboat, «E. |
| W. Stephens»
|
| Daggers were drawn on pistols pulled
|
| Staggering 'til dawn filled up with whiskey and rum
|
| And several drunken players ran amok
|
| Rampaging with the crew around the deck
|
| And I received a blow that was unkind
|
| It turned my cheek to the colour of gentian violet
|
| I wouldn’t say that this journey had quite been the highlight
|
| Of the All-American Tour
|
| Teetering on the edge of war
|
| Out of the genteel Northern prosceniums
|
| Filled up with imitation Europeans
|
| Down along the river of rough damnations
|
| By the blood-stained cotton and the slave plantations
|
| She could be no good, I’m telling you
|
| Gather round boys for a tale that is tragic and true
|
| And I received a blow that was unkind
|
| It turned my cheek to the colour of gentian violet
|
| I wouldn’t say that this journey had quite been the highlight
|
| Of the All-American Tour
|
| Teetering on the edge of war
|
| Out of the genteel Northern prosceniums
|
| Filled up with imitation Europeans
|
| Down along the river of rough damnations
|
| By the blood-stained cotton and the slave plantations |