Pretty Boy Floyd Woodie Guthrie E E7 A E Come and gather 'round me, children, a story I will tell A E B7 E About Pretty Boy Floyd, the outlaw, Oklahoma knew him well. It was in the town of Shawnee on a Saturday afternoon, His wife beside him in the wagon, as into town they rode. There a deputy sheriff approached him in a manner rather rude, Using vulgar words of anger, and his wife, she overheard. Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain, the deputy grabbed his gun, And in the fight that followed he laid that deputy down. Then he took to the trees and timber to life a life of shame, Every crime in Oklahoma was added to his name. Yes, he took to the river bottom along the river shore, And pretty Boy found a welcome at every farmer's door. The papers said that Pretty Boy had robbed a bank each day, While he was setting in some farmhouse, three hundred miles away. There's many a starving farmer the same old story told, How the outlaw paid their mortgage and saved their little home. Others tell you 'bout a stranger that come to beg a meal, And underneath his napkin lift a thousand-dollar bill. It was in Oklahoma City, it was on a Christmas Dayu, There came a whole carload of groceries with a note to say: '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 rambled I've seen lots of funny men, Some will rob you with a six gun, and some with a fountain pen. But as through your life you'll travel, wherever you may roam, You won't never see no outlaw drive a family from their home.