I was on my way from Dodge that day
I was going home again
My indian bride was by my side
When I rode in to Guthrie
Big Jim Brady ran the town, the saloon and gambling hall
The general store and several more, he ran them all in Guthrie
With the horses tied I went inside and was buying fresh supplies
Outside the door I heard a rifle roar to my surprise in Guthrie
I rushed outside and my wife cried, Jim Brady's been around
He was like a fiend, both drunk and mean
So I shot him down in Guthrie
I quickly run and grabbed the gun and stood where Big Jim lay
Those who came gave me the blame so I ran away from Guthrie
I knew my bride was justified in such a circumstance
But an indian's word would not be heard
She'd have no chance in Guthrie
All through the night I rode with fright through hills and chaparral
But the marshall knew this country too
He was on my trail from Guthrie
When noon was high he was drawing nigh, I heard his six-gun ring
Then the marshall by the badge he wore I'll see you swing in Guthrie
So now I dwell in a prison cell and an indian girl will cry
To the hangman's tree they'll carry me
And it's here I'll die in Guthrie