Jack Straw from Wichita, cut his buddy down

Hurts my ears to listen, Shannon
Burns my eyes to see
Cut down a man in cold blood, Shannon
Might as well be me

We used to play for silver
Now we play for life
One’s for sport and one’s for blood
At the point of a knife

Now the die is shaken
Now the die must fall
There ain’t a winner in this game
Who don’t go home with all, not with all…

Ain’t no place a man can hide, Shannon
Keep him from the sun
Ain’t no bed will give us rest, man,
You keep us on the run

Jack Straw from Wichita
Cut his buddy down
Dug for him a shallow grave
And laid his body down

Half a mile from Tucson
By the morning light
One man gone and another to go
My old buddy you’re moving much too slow

Robert Hunter, Grateful Dead

JackStrawDraft

Here

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