Uptown got its hustlers The Bowery got its bums Forty-Second Street got Big Jim Walker He a pool-shootin' son of a gun Yeah, he's big and dumb as a man can come But he's stronger than a country hoss And when the bad folks all get together at night You know they all call Big Jim boss, just because And they say You don't tug on Superman's cape You don't spit into the wind You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger And you don't mess around with Jim (Ba-doo, doo-doo, da-da, ih, ih, dee-dee-dee) Well, outta south Alabama come a country boy He said: I'm lookin' for a man named Jim I am a pool-shootin' boy, my name's Willie McCoy But down at home, they call me Slim Yeah, I'm lookin' for the king of Forty-Second Street He drivin' a drop top Cadillac Last week, he took all my money And it may sound funny, but I come to get my money back And everybody say: Jack, uh, don't you know? That you don't tug on Superman's cape You don't spit into the wind You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger And you don't mess around with Jim (Ba-doo, doo-doo, da-da, ih, ih, dee-dee-dee) Well, a hush fell over the pool room And Jimmy come boppin' in off the street And when the cutting were done, the only part that wasn't bloody Was the soles of the big man's feet, ooh Yeah, he was cut in 'bout a hundred places And he was shot in a couple more And you better believe they sung a different kind of story When Big Jim hit the floor, oh, oh, oh Now they say You don't tug on Superman's cape You don't spit into the wind You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger And you don't mess around with Slim (Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm) Yeah, Big Jim got his hat Find out where it's at, and it's not hustlin' people strange to you Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue Yeah, you don't tug on Superman's cape You don't spit into the wind You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger And you don't mess around with Slim