County of site: St. Louis Independent City
Location of site: 11th St. & Locust St., St. Louis
Composer: Tom Rush
Artist: Dave Van Ronk
Date: 1959
"When it comes to the rabbit holes of American murder ballads, few are as deep and labyrinthine as "Duncan and Brady." Based on a murder in St. Louis (Eleventh Street and Lucas Avenue, to be exact) on October 6, 1890, the song has traveled under various names (the first recording, by the string band Wilmer Watts & the Lonely Eagles, bore the title "Been on the Job Too Long") and accrued details that don't match up to history. Go figure. What we do know is James Brady was the police officer slain at the rowdy tavern, and Harry Duncan, a black man and local singer, was the accused. Despite numerous appeals, Duncan would hang for the crime, though the saloon's owner, Charles Starkes, ultimately copped to the murder in a deathbed confession. Just about everybody who's anybody in folk music (Lead Belly, Judy Henske, Bob Dylan) has recorded this bad-man ballad. Dave Van Ronk's interpretation from 1959 deserves special notice for its crisp, growling soul. -Roy Kasten, Riverfront Times
History of the Tragedy/Murder as told on Wikipedia
Lyrics:
Well, it's twinkle, twinkle little star
Along came Brady in his 'lectric car
Got a mean look right in his eye
Gonna shoot somebody just to see him die
Well, he been on the job too long
Well, Duncan, Duncan was tending the bar
Along comes Brady with his shiny star
Brady says, Duncan, you are under arrest
And Duncan shot a hole right in Brady's chest
Yes, he been on the job too long
Brady, Brady, Brady, well you know you done wrong
Breaking in here when my game's going on
Breaking down the windows, knocking down the door
And now you're lying dead on the barroom floor
Yes, you been on the job too long
Well, old King Brady was a big fat man
Doctor reached out, grabbed hold of his hand
He felt for his pulse, doctor said
"I believe unto my soul King Brady's dead"
Yes, he been on the job too long
High tailed carriages standing around
Waiting to take King Brady to the burying ground
High tailed carriages, rubber tired hack
Well, they took him to the graveyard
But they didn't bring him back
Yes, he been on the job too long
Well, women all heard King Brady was dead
They go back home and re-rag in red
Come a-slipping and a-sliding and a-shuffling down the street
In their big Mother Hubbards and their stocking feet
He been on the job too long
Well, Brady, Brady, well you know you done wrong
Breaking in here when my game's going on
Breaking down the windows, knocking down the door
And now you're lying dead on the barroom floor
Yes, you been on the job too long
Ballads, Blues & A Spiritual