by Woodie Guthrie



Now gather round me, fellows

A story I will tell

Of Pretty Boy Floyd the outlaw

Oklahoma knew him well



'Twas in the town of Shawnee

On a Saturday afternoon

His wife beside him in the wagon

As into town they rode.



A deputy sheriff approached him

In a manner rather rude

Using vulgar words of anger

And his wife she overheard



Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,

And the deputy grabbed a gun,

And in the fight that followed

He laid that deputy down.



Then he took to the trees and timber

To live a life of shame

Every crime in Oklahoma

Was added to his name.



There's many a starvin' farmer,

The same old story told,

How this outlaw paid their mortgage

And saved their little home.



Now as through this world I ramble,

I see lots of funny men.

Some will rob you with a six-gun,

Some with a fountain pen.



But, as through this life you travel,

And as through your life you roam,

You won't never see an outlaw

Drive a family from their home