I’ve got a story .. a story I want to tell of a couple of gangsters. Chicago is where they dwelled.
The boss man was named Blackie and was as mean as they would come. His sidekick was called Little One and everyone thought he was dumb.
Blackie planned to steal the gold while in transit one fine day. They pulled it off without a hitch cuz he and Little One got away.
They went up to Wisconsin. To the northern woods to hide. They’d lay low for the winter. Away from prying eyes.
They dragged their crate of shinny stuff and placed it in a pond. And soon the pond froze over. That gold would not be found.
As they walked back to the cabin, Blackie yelled in all his pride his proclamation of arrogance. To the wilderness he cried.
“I’m too smart for them. No one knows I’m here. I got away with the perfect crime. I truly have no peers. I could hide out here forever. They’ll never find me here. And the story of my perfect crime, will be told for many years”
The days grew short with winter and Blackie’s meanness flared. He took it out on Little One cuz there was no one else to share.
And on one cold December morning Blackie screamed where Blackie stood,
“Get up and fix me some breakfast and go out and cut some firewood”.
Little One stood up and grabbed his ax to greet the winter cold. But he stopped and turned and faced Blackie .. he didn’t do what he was told.
Bloodied footsteps in the snow led the way back to the pond where Little One hacked a hole in the ice and pulled up what could not be found.
He emptied out the container of all the shinny stuff and replaced it with the body parts of his boss who talked so tough.
As he pushed Blackie back in the hole he could hear the eagle cry those echoed words once yelled by Blackie .. his proclamation of pride.
“I’m too smart for them. No one knows I’m here. I got away with the perfect crime. I truly have no peers. I’ll hide out here forever. They’ll never find me here. And the story of the perfect crime will be told for many years – many years”
Now Little One sits comfortably under the warm Mexican sun. Sipping on his tequila he ponders what he has done.
A smile appears upon his face and those words spin in his head. The words once owned by Blackie are now Little One’s instead.
“I’m too smart for them. No one knows I’m here. I got away with the perfect crime. I truly have no peers. I’ll hide out here forever. And they’ll never find me here. And my story of my perfect crime I will sing for many – many years”.
THE STORY OF BLACKIE AND LITTLE ONE