Wilma And Beauregard

Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Robert Hunter

Wilma said: Beauregard I want a gun for my birthday
Purse size revolver in gold like the one on display
on a pawnshop shelf I saw ducking in out of the rain
where Salmon P. Chase Avenue runs into DuQuesne

Beauregard studied her face in the silverback mirror
Sharpened his razor and lathered his face ear to ear
Wilma my darling, what were you doing down there?
That part of town has got nothing but pity to spare

I took a streetcar and rode to the end of the line
Nothin' to do, I was bored, I was just killing time
I met a friend of a friend and we stopped for a chat
She works as a stripper cross town at Schroedinger's Cat

She said you'd been hanging around but would not say your name
Just a man with an eyepatch involved in the numbers game
who brought around trouble of some kind involving the law
She don't know I know you but still wouldn't say what she saw

I didn't press her - she struggled to fight back the tears
You don't want to know she said, trust me, it ain't for your ears
but the next time I see that son of a bitch, and I will
I don't care what happens to me, I'll be shooting to kill

Beauregard said: you know Wilma, I never could lie to you
but the truth of this thing, if I told you, would not seem true
You've been around and learned what they don't teach in schools
Like it or not, it's a living, and you know the rules

Wilma said: Beauregard, I've got not words to convey
the pain in my heart when I listen to what you say
Regardless of circumstance, I happen to know a thing or two
Whatever went down I could tell damn well she was in love with you

So if you just happen to be heading downtown in the rain
and find yourself around Salmon P. Chase and DuQuesne
get me that gold-plated .38 gun from the store
or I'll just have to blow you away with your own .44