Pistol Packin' Papa (O'Neal/Rodgers)

I'm a pistol packing papa, and when I walk down the street

You can hear those mamas shoutin': Don't turn your gun on me!

Now girls, I'm just a good guy, and I'm goin' to have my fun

And if you don't wanna smell my smoke, don't monkey with my gun!

Like a hobo when he's hungry; like a drunk man when he's full

I'm a pistol packing papa, I know how to shoot the bull

The hold-up men all know me, and they sure leave me be

I'm a pistol packin' papa, and I ramble where I please

When I have that funny feeling that lorryin' ramblers call

I swing aboard some freight train, and I shoot my pistol off

Sometimes one shot will do me, sometimes takes four or five

Sometimes I shoot all around, before I'm satisfied

When you hear my pistol poppin', you better hide yourself some place

'Cause I ain't made it for stoppin', and I come from a shootin' race

My sweatheart understands me, she says I am her big shot

I'm her pistol packin' daddy, and I know I've got the drop

You can hear my new sport roadster, you can take my hard-boil head

But you can't never take from me my silver-mounted gad

I'm a pistol packin papa, I'm goin' to have my fun

Just fallow me and you will hear the bargain of my gun