“If you'll gather round me, children, A story I will tell 'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw, Oklahoma knew him well. … Yes, he took to the trees and timber To live a life of shame; Every crime in Oklahoma Was added to his name. But many a starvin' farmer The same old story told How the outlaw paid their mortgage And saved their little homes. Others tell you 'bout a stranger That come to beg a meal, Underneath his napkin Left a thousand-dollar bill.” Those words come from “The Ballad o...
