Pretty Boy Floyd - Bob Dylan

If you’ll gather 'round me, people

A story, I will tell

About Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw

Oklahoma knew him well

It was in the town of Shawnee

On a Saturday afternoon

His wife beside him in a wagon

As into town they rode

There a deputy sheriff approached him

In a manner rather rude

Using vulgar words of language

An' his wife, she overheard

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain

And the deputy grabbed his gun

And in the fight that followed

He laid that deputy down

Now, he took to the hills and timber

To live the life of shame

Every crime in Oklahoma

Was added to his name

He took to the trees and timber

On the Canadian river shore

And Pretty Boy found a welcome

At every farmer’s door

Others tell you of a stranger

That come to beg a meal

And underneath the napkin

Left a thousand-dollar bill

'Twas in Oklahoma City

It was on a Christmas Day

There come a whole car load of groceries

And a letter that did say:

You say that I’m an outlaw

You say that I’m a thief

Well, here’s a Christmas dinner

For the families on relief

Well, it’s through this world I’ve rambled

I’ve seen lots of funny men

Some will rob you with a six-gun

And some with a fountain pen

Well, it’s through this world you ramble

It’s through this world you roam

You won’t never see an outlaw

Drive a family from their home