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Frankie was a good woman,
As everybody knows,
She did all the work around the house
And pressed her Albert's clothes.
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Albert was a yeller man, Coal-black curly hair. Everybody up in St. Louis Thought he was a millionaire— He was my son, and the only one.
Miss Frankie went to the barroom,
Called for a bottle of beer,
Says to the bartender:
"Has Mister Albert been here?
He is my man, and he's doin' me wrong."
Frankie and Albert were lovers,
Oh, my God, how they did love!
Just like sisters and brothers,
This whore and her turtle dove,
For he was her man, but she shot him down.