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Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night |
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Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall. |
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She sees the bartender in a pool of blood, |
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Cries out, 'My God, they killed them all!' |
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Here comes the story of the Hurricane, |
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The man the authorities came to blame |
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For somethin' that he never done. |
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Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been |
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The champion of the world. |
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Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see |
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And another man named Bello, movin' around mysteriously. |
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'I didn't do it,' he says, and he throws up his hands |
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'I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand. |
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I saw them leavin',' he says, and he stops |
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'One of us had better call up the cops.' |
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And so Patty calls the cops |
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And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin' |
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In the hot New Jersey night. |
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Meanwhile, far away in another part of town |
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Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivin' around. |
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Number one contender for the middleweight crown |
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Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down |
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When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road |
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Just like the time before and the time before that. |
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In Paterson that's just the way things go. |
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If you're black you might as well not show up on the street |
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'Less you wanna draw the heat. |
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Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops. |
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Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowlin' around |
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He said, 'I saw two men runnin' out, they looked like middleweights |
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They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates.' |
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And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head. |
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Cop said, 'Wait a minute, boys, this one's not dead' |
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So they took him to the infirmary |
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And though this man could hardly see |
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They told him that he could identify the guilty men. |
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Four in the mornin' and they haul Rubin in, |
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Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs. |
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The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye |
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Says, 'Wha'd you bring him in here for? He ain't the guy!' |
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Yes, here's the story of the Hurricane, |
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The man the authorities came to blame |
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For somethin' that he never done. |
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Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been |
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The champion of the world. |
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Four months later, the ghettos are in flame, |
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Rubin's in South America, fightin' for his name |
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While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game |
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And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame. |
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'Remember that murder that happened in a bar?' |
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'Remember you said you saw the getaway car?' |
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'You think you'd like to play ball with the law?' |
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'Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin' that night?' |
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'Don't forget that you are white.' |
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Arthur Dexter Bradley said, 'I'm really not sure.' |
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Cops said, 'A poor boy like you could use a break |
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We got you for the motel job and we're talkin' to your friend Bello |
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Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow. |
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You'll be doin' society a favor. |
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That sonofabitch is brave and gettin' braver. |
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We want to put his ass in stir |
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We want to pin this triple murder on him |
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He ain't no Gentleman Jim.' |
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Rubin could take a man out with just one punch |
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But he never did like to talk about it all that much. |
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It's my work, he'd say, and I do it for pay |
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And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way |
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Up to some paradise |
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Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice |
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And ride a horse along a trail. |
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But then they took him to the jailhouse |
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Where they try to turn a man into a mouse. |
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All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance |
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The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance. |
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The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums |
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To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum |
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And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger. |
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No one doubted that he pulled the trigger. |
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And though they could not produce the gun, |
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The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed |
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And the all-white jury agreed. |
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Rubin Carter was falsely tried. |
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The crime was murder 'one,' guess who testified? |
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Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied |
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And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride. |
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How can the life of such a man |
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Be in the palm of some fool's hand? |
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To see him obviously framed |
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Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land |
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Where justice is a game. |
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Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties |
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Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise |
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While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell |
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An innocent man in a living hell. |
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That's the story of the Hurricane, |
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But it won't be over till they clear his name |
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And give him back the time he's done. |
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Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been |
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The champion of the world. |
