(Woody Guthrie)
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Gather round me children, a story I will tell
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About Pretty Boy Floyd, the outlaw, Oklahoma knew him well.
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‘Twas in the town of Shawnee on a Saturday afternoon
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With his wife beside him in a wagon it was into town they rode.
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Well, a deputy sheriff called him in a manner rather rude
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Using vulgar words of language and his wife she overheard.
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Well, Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain, the deputy grabbed his gun
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And in the fight that followed, he laid that deputy down.
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He took to the woods and timbers, he lived a life of shame,
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Every crime in Oklahoma they laid on to his name.
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He took to the river boaters long the North Canadian river shore
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And many a starving farmer he opened up his door.
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They tell about a stranger, the same story goes
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How Pretty Boy paid their mortgage and he saved their little home.
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Others tell about a stranger who came to beg a meal
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And underneath his napkin, he left a thousand dollar bill.
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Into Oklahoma City, it was on a Christmas day
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Come a whole wagonload full of groceries and a note on which did say:
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“You say that I’m an outlaw, you say that I’m a thief,
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Well, here’s a Christmas dinner for your families on relief.”
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Through this world I’ve rambled, I’ve seen many funny men,
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Some will rob you with a six-gun and some with a fountain pen.
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But as through your lives you travel, boys, as through your lives you roam
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You won’t never see no outlaw drive a family from their home.
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Pretty Boy Floyd
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| Kinky Friedman |
