R. P. Weatherald - Pretty Boy Floyd lyrics

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