The Nalgahide Preacher was down on Canal,
just a speakin’ the word and a flirtin’ with gals,
When Gibo the Gypsy, I’m sorry to tell,
came a stumblin’ up to him, and bleedin’ like hell.

The Gypsy was one of old Nalgahide’s flock.
He lived in a houseboat right down by the docks.
He played Roma fiddle in all those dark streets
his tone filled with sorrow, tortuously sweet.

The Preacher he ran to his Gypsy friend’s aid,
and asked him by whom Gibo had been waylaid.
When you mess with the Roma the Preacher goes crazy.
He’ll wail on your head ‘till your brains turn to gravy.

The Gypsy did say in an accent quite thick
“It vas boys from dem frats dat gave me dese licks”
“What boys do you mean, it is now Mardi Gras.
There’s more frat boys ‘round here than there’s flies on a hog.”

“You’ll spot them because dey vill not vish to linger.
I grabbed hold of one and I bit off his finger.”
The Gypsy reached into his pocket and drew
from the depths a dead finger, “I’ll give it to you.”

Preach took that dead finger from out Gibo’s hand,
Looked round at his flock and he gave his command.
“Take him to Doc Jekyll, who’s on the North Side.
Say he comes from me, he knows old Nalgahide.”

Up ran Frenchie Piaf, “I’ll tell you the facts!
I saw those boys launch their Gestapo attack!
They grabbed him and punched Gibo right in the chin
Then they jumped up and down on his fine violin!

Ali the Arab tried to help Gibo out,
And for his brave kindness they punched his lights out.
Some drag queens for help did start then to wail
But those frat boys grabbed them and they kicked all their tails!”

Preach stepped to the Quarter, his stomach was churnin’
For fine retribution his soul it was yearnin’
His eyes were ablaze, with anger a burnin’
He soon would deliver his Mardi Gras sermon.

Let me stop right here and answer a question.
“A nalgahide preacher? Absurd, that suggestion!”
We all call him that because of his suit,
made with his own hands, and man that’s the truth.

Scrounged the skin off a couch that had been cast aside
and made him his suit out of real nalgahide.
He is clothed head to toe in that slick vinyl stuff.
He’s so slick that he slides, yep that Preacher looks tough.

Well, soon he hit Bourbon, the cats saw him comin’
Those who were wise to the side they were runnin’.
The cops saw him too, and that look in his eye
They decided to go find some donuts to buy.

The Preacher has eyes on every corner.
The beggars and artists and old saxaphoners.
It was Bennie the Beatnik who to his advantage
first spotted the frat boy a wearin’ a bandage.

The Preach stepped right up and he yanked off that cloth,
The frat boy he cried from the pain that it caused.
Nalgahide checked before starting to hit.
Yep, it was that boy’s digit, the finger did fit.

The Preach he stepped back, gave his sleeve a slight shake
The cats on the streets knew that bones soon would break.
For down from his sleeve as if by God’s command
Nalgahide’s pipe slipped right into his right hand.

“A pipe!” you may say, “What is this, a joke?
Nalgahide will sit down and have him a toke?”
Don’t YOU be absurd, not the kind that you smoke.
A lead pipe it is, great for poppin’ jamokes.

And poppin’ he did, without saying a word.
For thrashin’ and crashin’ and bashin’ was heard.
He aimed for the jaw, was not much of a fight.
The molars went left and incisors went right.

The busted boy’s friends tried to come to his aid
But now it was their turn to be much waylaid.
The street it resounded with curses and moanin’
Those boys sure did hear Preacher’s Mardi Gras sermon.

One needs a new kneecap, titanium’s best.
Another now has plastic bones in his chest.
Preach tore off their jewl’ry to pay for their sins
He hocked it and bought Gibo’s new violin.

As you probably guessed, they sent Preacher to jail
Because on those frat boys our hero did wail.
But he’ll be out soon and we’ll holler hurrah.
We elected him King of this year’s Mardi Gras.