Saturday Night Special (Live In Atlantic City)

Two feet they come a-creeping
Like a black cat do
And two bodies laying naked
Creeper think he got nothing to lose.

So he creeps into this house
And unlocks the door
And as a man's reaching for his trousers
He shoots him full of .38 holes.

Mister Saturday-Night-Special
You got a barrel that's a-blue and cold
So ain't good for nothin'
But put a man six a-feet in a hole.

Big Jim's been drinkin' whiskey
Playing poker on a losin' night
And pretty soon old Jim starts to thinkin'
Somebody's been cheatin' and lyin'.

So Big Jim commence to fightin'
I wouldn't tell you no lie
And Big Jim done pulled his pistol
And shot his friend right between the eyes.

Mister Saturday-Night-Special
You got a barrel that's a-blue and cold
So ain't good for nothin'
But put a man six a-feet in a hole.

Hand guns are made for killin'
Ain't no good for nothin' else
And if you like to drink your whiskey
You might even shoot yourself.

So why don't we dump 'em people
To the bottom of the sea
Before some old fool come around here
And wanna shoot either you or me.

Mister Saturday-Night-Special
Got a barrel that's a-blue and cold
So ain't good for nothin'
But put a man six a-feet in a hole.

Mister Saturday-Night-Special.

Ain't good for nothin'
But put a man six a-feet in a hole.

The old ... do
Ain't no good.