Transcribed by: Russell Edwards [email protected] ()This is it folks, over the top He was selling post cards from a paper stand A whiskey bottle in his withered hand He put his finger on a photo from an old magazine Saw himself in the shadow of a dream Running with his head inside a juke-box crown Found him with his head inside a tin-pot crown Told him his feet stank and took him downtown Called him agitator, spy and thief Shut him up solitary third degree Chorus: ()line ()line x 2 )him He tried to appeal to the king of might He said I'm just exercisin' my sacred right The king he said you ain't got no rights You're a mad, bad traitor get outta my sight You're a mad man, traitor get outta my sight Chorus Bass rises rather than decending at end: