| Down in Houston, Texas on a Christmas night
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| With a gun in his hand and his name up in lights
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| He was young and handsome, the Prince of the Blues
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| In a sharkskin suit and alligator shoes
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| He was flirting with some women who had come backstage
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| He said, «Ladies, want to see me play a wild little game?»
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| But Big Mama Thornton said, «Go sing Your Song
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| And put that damn thing down before something goes wrong»
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| Big Mama cried, «Dear Lord,» Big Mama said
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| He put a 22 pistol right up to his head
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| Then he smiled at the ladies
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| Now Johnny Ace is dead
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| The band leader set his saxophone down
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| And said, «I think I better split before the cops come 'round»
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| While the crowd in the theater slowly drifted away
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| With their heads hung low, not sure of what to say
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| But Big Don Robey, the record company man
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| With big diamond rings on both of his hands
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| Said, «I'm gonna send him back to Memphis in a refrigerated truck
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| Cause Johnny Ace is gonna make me a million bucks.»
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| Big Mama cried, «Dear Lord,» Big Mama said
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| He put a 22 pistol right up to his head
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| Then he smiled at the ladies
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| Now Johnny Ace is dead
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| When Johnny came home to Memphis, Tennessee
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| Everyone on Beale Street came out to see
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| There were pimps and gamblers, husbands and wives
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| Women young and old all came to say goodbye
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| And as the choirs sand and the preachers prayed
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| Five thousand mourners marched him to his grave
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| Well, there may be a Heaven and there may be a Hell
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| No one knows for sure but now Johnny Ace knows damn well
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| Big Mama cried, «Dear Lord,» Big Mama said
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| He put a 22 pistol right up to his head
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| Then he smiled at the ladies
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| Now Johnny Ace is dead |