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Well gather round me children, a story I will tell |
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About pretty boy Floyd the outlaw, Oklahoma knew him well |
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It was in the town of Shawnee on a Saturday afternoon |
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His wife beside him in the wagon as into town they rode |
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Then along came the deputy sheriff in a manner rather rude |
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Using vulgar words of language, his wife she overheard |
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Then pretty boy grabbed a long chain and the deputy grabbed a gun |
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And in the fight that followed he laid that deputy down |
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Then he ran to the trees and bushes to live a life of shame |
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Every crime in Oklahoma was added to his name |
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He ran to the trees and bushes on the Canadian river shore |
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And many a starving farmer opened up his door |
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It was in Oklahoma City, it was on a Christmas day |
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A whole carload of groceries with a letter that did say |
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You say that I'm an outlaw, you say that I'm a thief |
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Well here's a Christmas dinner for the families on relief |
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As through this life you travel you meet some funny men |
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Some will rob you with a six-gun and some with a fountain pen |
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As through this life you ramble, as through this life you roam |
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You'll never see an outlaw take a family from their home |