"Not I," says the referee,
"Don't point your finger at
me.
I could've stopped it in the
eighth
An' maybe kept him from his
fate,
But the crowd would've booed,
I'm sure,
At not gettin' their money's
worth.
It's too bad he had to go,
But there was a pressure on
me too, you know.
It wasn't me that made him
fall.
No, you can't blame me at
all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason
for?
"Not us," says the angry crowd,
Whose screams filled the arena
loud.
"It's too bad he died that
night
But we just like to see a
fight.
We didn't mean for him t'
meet his death,
We just meant to see some
sweat,
There ain't nothing wrong
in that.
It wasn't us that made him
fall.
No, you can't blame us at
all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason
for?
"Not me," says his manager,
Puffing on a big cigar.
"It's hard to say, it's hard
to tell,
I always thought that he was
well.
It's too bad for his wife
an' kids he's dead,
But if he was sick, he should've
said.
It wasn't me that made him
fall.
No, you can't blame me at
all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason
for?
"Not me," says the gambling
man,
With his ticket stub still
in his hand.
"It wasn't me that knocked
him down,
My hands never touched him
none.
I didn't commit no ugly sin,
Anyway, I put money on him
to win.
It wasn't me that made him
fall.
No, you can't blame me at
all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason
for?
"Not me," says the boxing writer,
Pounding print on his old
typewriter,
Sayin', "Boxing ain't to blame,
There's just as much danger
in a football game."
Sayin', "Fist fighting is
here to stay,
It's just the old American
way.
It wasn't me that made him
fall.
No, you can't blame me at
all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason
for?
"Not me," says the man whose
fists
Laid him low in a cloud of
mist,
Who came here from Cuba's
door
Where boxing ain't allowed
no more.
"I hit him, yes, it's true,
But that's what I am paid
to do.
Don't say 'murder,' don't
say 'kill.'
It was destiny, it was God's
will."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason
for?
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |