Well now, Frankie and Johnny were sweethearts
They were true as a blue, blue sky
He was a long-legged guitar picker
With a wicked wandering eye
But he was her man
Nearly all of the time
Well, Johnny he packed up to leave her
But he promised he'd be back
He said he had a little picking to do
A little farther down the track
He said, "I'm your man
I wouldn't do you wrong"
Well, Frankie curled up on the sofa
Thinking about her man
Far away the couples were dancing
To the music of his band
He was Frankie's man
He wadn't doing her wrong
Then, in the front door walked a redhead
Johnny saw her right away
She came down by the bandstand
To watch him while he played
He was Frankie's man
But she was far away
He sang every song to the redhead
She smiled back at him
Then he came and sat at her table
Where the lights were low and dim
What Frankie didn't know
Wouldn't hurt her none
Then the redhead jumped up and slapped him
She slapped him a time or two
She said, "I'm Frankie's sister
And I was checking up on you
If you're her man
You better treat her right"
Well, the moral of this story
Is be good but carry a stick
Sometimes it looks like a guitar picker
Just can't tell what to pick
He was Frankie's man
And he still ain't done her wrong