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 wanderin' 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 pickin' 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, thinkin' about her man Far away the couples were dancing to the music of his band He was Frankie's man, he wadn't doin' 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