Hey, Mister McKinley
Why didn’t you run
When you see that man a-coming
With a Johnson forty-one
(alternatively: With that Ivor Johnson gun*)
From Buffalo…
To Washington
Doctor comes a-runnin’
Takes off his specs
Says, «Mister McKinley
You done cashed your checks»
From Buffalo…
To Washington
McKinley hollered, McKinley squalled,
The Doc said, McKinley, I can’t find that ball
You’re bound to die-bound to die
Oh it’s look here you rascal see what you done
You shot my husban and I got your gun
I’m takin’ you back to Washington
Oh the doc came a-running took off his specs
Said Mr. McKinley better cash in your checks
You’re bound to die, bound to die.
Oh Roosevelt in the White House doin’ his best
McKinley in the graveyard takin’ a rest
He’s gone, long gone
The engine she whistled all down the line
Blowin’ at every station «McKinley is dyin'»
From Buffalo to Washington
Roosevelt in the White House, drinkin’ out a silver cup,
McKinley in the graveyard, he’ll never wake up
He’s gone a long, old time.
