Pretty Boy Floyd Lyrics - Dust Bowl Ballads - Woody Guthrie

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. 

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Then 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 starving 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: 

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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.