Bob Dylan — Pretty Boy Floyd

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