Well come and gather 'round me, people
And a story I will tell
About Pretty Boy Floyd, the outlaw
Oklahoma knew him well
He was in the town of Shawnee
On a Saturday afternoon
With his wife beside him in the wagon
As into town they rode
A deputy sheriff approached him
And in a manner rather rude
Using vulgar words of language
That mrs. Floyd she overheard
Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
And in the fight that followed
Well he laid that deputy down
He took to the trees and timber
And he live a life of shame;
And every crime in Oklahoma
It was added to his name
He took to the trees and timber
On the old Canadian shore;
And he found many a welcome
At some old farmer's door
And a story I will tell
About Pretty Boy Floyd, the outlaw
Oklahoma knew him well
He was in the town of Shawnee
On a Saturday afternoon
With his wife beside him in the wagon
As into town they rode
A deputy sheriff approached him
And in a manner rather rude
Using vulgar words of language
That mrs. Floyd she overheard
Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
And in the fight that followed
Well he laid that deputy down
He took to the trees and timber
And he live a life of shame;
And every crime in Oklahoma
It was added to his name
He took to the trees and timber
On the old Canadian shore;
And he found many a welcome
At some old farmer's door
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