Pops Panczko Polka

Looking at the obits, I came across a crook Joe Panczko was the kind at whom the judge could throw the book Two hundred times arrested, sixteen years, not concurrent I found this fascinating, ‘wouldn’t sing this if it weren’t.

His crime career spanned forty years, so the story’s told A bullet-ridden burglar with a heart of gold In win’try old Chicago, he stole a Cadillac With a spaniel in the back seat, so he brought the doggie back

During the Great Depression, to help his family Young Joe stole peanut butter, and other groceries He grew more proficient, moved on to bigger things He heisted furs and typewriters and also diamond rings

Chorus:

It’s the Pops Panczko Polka Any safe, he would crack it The Pops Panczko Polka A pistol, he would pack it The Pops Panczko Polka He’d walk off with your jacket He said, “All my life I stole things... That’s my racket.”

Panczko’s brother, Peanuts, was not the best of men He ratted on poor Joseph. Joe got four years in the pen Why he gave up his brother, I do not understand Except his relocation in the Fed protection plan

Joe could open car trunks by giving them a whack One time he stole his lawyer’s files and didn’t give them back His last police encounter was just two years ago When burglars busted into his North Side bungalow

His family wouldn’t ‘fess up, ‘bout how and when he died I’m sure a mob of people paid their respects and cried Folks from the old neighborhood lined up around the block To see if Joseph Panczko would pick the coffin lock

Repeat Chorus

Chicago’s best know felon, the Polish “Robin Hood” Was buried on da North Side, his case was closed for good From Heaven’s gate he’d tell us, “Don’t wallow in you grief. I’m troo wit crime, my feet are tired. Hey, I was just a teef.”

Tag: It’s the Pops Panczko Polka