Falling James in the Tahoe mud 
Stick around to tell us all the tale 
He fell in love with a Gun Street Girl and 
Now he's dancing in the Birmingham jail 
Dancing in the Birmingham jail. 
Took a 100 dollars off a slaughterhouse Joe 
Brought a bran' new michigan 20 gauge 
Got all liquored up on that road house corn, 
Blew a hole in the hood of a yellow corvette 
Blew a hole in the hood of a yellow corvette. 
Bought a second hand Nova from a Cuban Chinese 
Dyed his hair in the bathroom of a Texaco 
With a pawnshop radio, quarter past 4 
Well ,he left Waukegan at the slammin' of the door 
He left Waukegan at the slammin' of the door
 [bad word]  
I said John, John he's long gone 
Gone to Indiana 
Ain't [bad word] home 
I said John, John he's long gone 
Gone to Indiana, ain't [bad word] home. 
Sitting in a sycamore in St. John's Wood 
Soakin' day old bread in kerosene 
He was blue as a robin's egg brown as a hog 
Stayin' out of circulation till the dogs get tired 
Stayin' out of circulation till the dogs get tired 
Shadow fixed the toilet with an old trombone 
He never got up in the morning on a Saturday 
Sittin' by the Erie with a bull whipped dog 
Tellin' everyone he saw 
They went thatta way 
Tellin' everyone he saw 
They went thatta way. 
Now the rain's like gravel on an old tin roof 
And the Burlinton Northern's pullin' out of the world 
With a head full of bourbon and a dream in the straw. 
And a Gun Street Girl was the cause of it all 
Gun Street Girl was the cause of it all. 
Riding in the shadow by the St. Joe Ridge 
He heard the click clack tappin' of a blind man's cane 
Pullin' into Baker on a New Year's Eve 
With one eye on the pistol the other on the door 
With one eye on the pistol the other on the door. 
Miss Charlotte took her satchel down to King Fish Row 
And he smuggled in a bran' new pair of alligator shoes. 
With her fireman's raincoat and her long yellow hair, well 
They tired her to a tree with a skinny millionaire 
They tired her to a tree with a skinny millionaire. 
 [bad word]  
I said John, John he's long gone 
Gone to Indiana 
Ain't [bad word] home 
I said John, John he's long gone 
Gone to Indiana, ain't [bad word] home 
Bangin' on a table with an old tin cup 
Sing I'll never kiss a Gun Street Girl again, 
I'll never kiss a Gun Street Girl again.