Pretty Boy Floyd

If you'll gather 'round me, children, A story I will tell 'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw, Oklahoma knew him well. It was in the town of Shawnee, A Saturday afternoon, His wife beside him in his wagon As into town they rode. There a deputy sheriff approached him In a manner rather rude, Vulgar words of anger, An' his wife she overheard. Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain, And the deputy grabbed his gun; In the fight that followed He laid that deputy down. Then he took to the trees and timber Along the river shore, Hiding on the river bottom And he never come back no more. Yes, he took to the trees and timber To live a life of shame; Every crime in Oklahoma Was added to his name. But a many a starvin' farmer The same old story told How the outlaw paid their mortgage And saved their little homes. Others tell you 'bout a stranger That come to beg a meal, Underneath his napkin Left a thousand-dollar bill. It was in Oklahoma City, It was on a Christmas Day, There was a whole car load of groceries Come with a note to say: "Well, you say that I'm an outlaw, You say that I'm a thief. Here's a Christmas dinner For the families on relief." Yes, as through this world I've wandered I've seen lots of funny men; Some will rob you with a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen. And as through your life you travel, Yes, as through your life you roam, You won't never see an outlaw Drive a family from their home.