Jim Ferrie / Studiodawgs Productions
Cripplejohn
Lyrics
East of Brandon, Mississippi
Well at least so goes the story
Lived a coffee-coloured cripple went by the name of John
He was kind and he was gentle,
Kinda slow developmental
Been an orphan since the day he was born

Well he couldn't run or stand tall
Play no basketball or football
On account of his condition though his heart was strong
He was the target of a bully
Of a white trash kid named Hooley
And the Hooley kid set out to do him wrong (Hooley'd say)

Cripple John Cripple John, look at you hobble along
I'll give you a kick, beat you with a stick
And you better not squeal
Coz if you rat me to somebody
An' I get to hear the story
I'm comin' back and I'm gonna kill ya for real

(break)

Cripple John he took a beatin'
But never once thought of retreatin'
From the hammer-headed Hooley, an' tried to give back what he got
For every blow that John hand landed
Though no fight was even-handed
The bully hated and he never forgot

John got older, took to cookin'
Broad of shoulder, solid lookin'
Known as skillful with the skillet and a steak bone-knife
Now he found most satisfying
Summer barbecues and fryin'
At the homes of the rich and white (and he'd sing)

Well, I slap the meat upon the gridle
Add the sauce and hear it sizzle
Pepper and spice, they very nice
On the cracklin'
Skin, so satisfyin'
Mighty tasty no denyin'
When I see the juice go rollin' down
their chins

(break)

Now Hooley'd quit his childhood mischief
On account of bein' Sheriff
Well at least that's what it looked like but the old ways die hard
Now the bully with a badge on
Occasionally'd rap John
With his handcuffs an' a nightstick an' a gun (and he'd say)

Cripple John Cripple John,, look at you hobble along
I'll give you a kick, beat you with a stick
And you better not squeal
Coz if you rat me to somebody
I'll go an' frame you for a felony
An I'll be back and I'll arrest yo ass for real

John prepared to take a beatin'
One last time there in his kitchen
As the Sheriff drew his nightstick knockin' John to the floor
And outside no one was hearin'
All the shoutin' and the screamin'
Or the snap of the single shot and no more

(break)

Investigators came-a callin'
At a house where John was cookin'
Askin' questions 'bout a Sheriff that been missin' long time
They could see that John was crippled
Ain't no suspect, way too simple
Left his smilin' as he mumbled this line (they never heard)

Well, I slap the meat upon the gridle
Add the sauce and hear it sizzle
Pepper and spice, they very nice
On the cracklin'
Skin, so satisfyin'
Mighty tasty no denyin'
When the evidence goes rollin' down
their chins
You see the evidence go rollin' down
their chins
Credits
Lyrics Credits: Jim Ferrie
Music Credits: Jim Ferrie
Producer Credits: Jim Ferrie
Publisher Credits: Jim Ferrie Music
Performance Credits: Jim Ferrie
Description
Story Behind the Song:
Jazzy-bluesy story song about a crippled orphan turned cook and his schooldays nemesis, now sherrif, upon whom he takes his revenge.
Metadata
Song Length: 5:35
Primary Genre: Blues-Country
Secondary Genre: Blues-Country
Tempo: Medium Slow (91 - 110)
Lead Vocal: Male Vocal
Subject Matter 1: Insults
Subject Matter 2: Murder, Rape
Mood 1: Intolerable
Similar Artist 1: Tom Waits
Language: English
Era: 2000 and later
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