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.