If you'll gather 'round me, people,

A story I will tell

'Bout 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;

In the fight that followed

He laid that deputy down.

Now, he took to the hills and timber

To live a 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.

T'was 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.