Baby, I'm a-taunt you,
Baby, I'm a-tease you
You then hold a gun. . .
Don't dare; you bluff;
I blurt it out:
Maybe I'm a-crazy
So I lip off, run my mouth.

The gun's in my direction,
Hammer's got inflection,
And the guiding sight's aimed at me,
So I drop and cower.

"Save me!" I'm a-prayin'
That you will not be a-sprayin' slugs at me,
But you are quite riled and open up;
I'm passing on.
Meanwhile, late at night.
You later hear me laughing on.

(And it's a long, strong Poe-like laugh,
Voice crazy, high;
My taunts won't die.)

Baby, I'm a-haunt you,
Habeas (deceased) too.

Now I'll posthumously ride you, baby.