From the album Skynyrd's Innyrds.

Two feets they come a-creepin'
Like a black cat do.
Two bodies a-laying restless,
Creeper thinks he's got nothing to lose.

So he creeps into the house, yea,
Unlocks the door,
And as the man's reachin' for his trousers
Shoots him full of .38 holes.

Mister Saturday Night, you're special,
You got a barrel that's blue and cold.
They ain't no good for nothing
But put a man six feet in a hole.

Big Jim's been a-drinkin' whiskey,
playin' poker on a losin' night,
Pretty soon old Jim starts thinkin'
Somebody's been cheatin' and lyin'.

Big Jim commenced to fightin',
I wouldn't you no lies.
Big Jim done pulled his pistol,
Shot his friend right between the eyes.

Mister Saturday Night, you're special,
You got a barrel that's blue and cold.
They ain't no good for nothing
But put a man six feet in a hole.

Oh, that's a Saturday Night Special
For twenty dollars you can buy yourself one, too.

Handguns are made for killin',
They ain't no good for nothing else.
And if you like to drink your whiskey,
You might even shoot yourself.

So why don't we dump 'em, people,
To the bottom of the sea
Before some old fool comes around here,
Wants to shoot either you or me?

Mister Saturday Night, you're special,
You got a barrel that's blue and cold.
You ain't no good for nothing
But put a man six feet in a hole.

That's a Saturday Night Special,
And I'd like to tell you what you can do with it, too.

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