Pretty Boy Floyd
Come gather round me children, a story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, the outlaw. Oklahoma knew him well.
'Twas in the town of Shawnee on a Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in a wagon as into town they rode.
When up stepped a deputy sheriff in a manner rather rude,
Using vulgar words of language, and his wife she overheard.
Well, Pretty Boy Floyd grabbed a long chain, and the deputy grabbed a gun,
And in the fight that followed, he laid that deputy down.
He ran through the trees and bushes and lived a life of shame.
Every crime in Oklahoma was added to his name.
He ran through trees and bushes on the Canadian River shore,
And many a starving farmer opened up his door.
In Oklahoma City, it was on a Christmas Day.
Came a whole carload of groceries and a letter that did say:
"You say that I'm an outlaw. You say that I'm a thief.
Well, here's a Christmas dinner for the families on relief."
As through this life you travel, you meet some funny men.
Some rob you with a six-gun, some with a fountain pen.
As through this life you ramble, as through this life you roam,
You'll never see an outlaw take a family from their home.
Repeat first section before first instrumental