(Woody Guthrie)



Gather round me children, a story I will tell

About Pretty Boy Floyd, the outlaw, Oklahoma knew him well.



‘Twas in the town of Shawnee on a Saturday afternoon

With his wife beside him in a wagon it was into town they rode.



Well, a deputy sheriff called him in a manner rather rude

Using vulgar words of language and his wife she overheard.



Well, Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain, the deputy grabbed his gun

And in the fight that followed, he laid that deputy down.



He took to the woods and timbers, he lived a life of shame,

Every crime in Oklahoma they laid on to his name.



He took to the river boaters long the North Canadian river shore

And many a starving farmer he opened up his door.



They tell about a stranger, the same story goes

How Pretty Boy paid their mortgage and he saved their little home.



Others tell about a stranger who came to beg a meal

And underneath his napkin, he left a thousand dollar bill.



Into Oklahoma City, it was on a Christmas day

Come a whole wagonload full of groceries and a note on which did say:



“You say that I'm an outlaw, you say that I'm a thief,

Well, here's a Christmas dinner for your families on relief.”



Through this world I've rambled, I've seen many funny men,

Some will rob you with a six-gun and some with a fountain pen.



But as through your lives you travel, boys, as through your lives you roam

You won't never see no outlaw drive a family from their home.