I've Been All Around This World
based on lyrics collected by Bob Duncan

Up on the Osage mountain, the wind blows chill and cold.
Up on the Osage mountain, the wind blows chill and cold.
I hid out there last winter, starved and nearly froze
Lord knows I've been all around this world.

Below the Osage mountain, there I made my stand.
Below the Osage mountain, there I made my stand;
Winchester on my saddle, six-shooter in each hand.
Lord knows I've been all around this world.

They arrested me on the street. There they made me stand.
Arrested me on Broadway street. There they made me stand.
Six-shooter in my face Lord and shackles on my hands.
Lord knows, I've been all around this world.

Hang me, oh hang me, hang me good and high.
Hang me oh hang me, hang me good and high.
I won't mind the hangin' if it don't take long to die.
Lord knows I been all around this world.

Cole Younger

Written by the man himself -- I wouldn't dare re-arrange this one. His ghost might shoot me.

I am a highway bandit man, Cole Younger is my name.
Though many a depredation has brought my life to shame,
a-robbing of the Northfield bank was a shame I'll never deny.
I'm doomed a poor prisoner, in teh Still Water Jail I lie.

'Tis one of teh high, bold robberies the truth to you I'll tell,
a Californee miner whose fate to us befell.
Saying, "Hand your money over and make no long delay."
A trick that I'll be sorry of until my dying day.

Then we left good old Texas, that good old Lone Star State.
Out on Nebraskee praries the James boys we did meet.
With knives, guns, and revolvers, we all sat down to play
a good old game of poker to pass the time away.

Out on Nebraskee praries the Denver came along.
Says I to Bob, "Let's rob her as she goes rolling on."
Killed the engineer and fireman, conductor 'scaped alive.
Their bodies now lie moulding beneath Nebraska skies.

We saddled up our horses and northward we ddi go
to the God forsaken country called Minnesot-ee-oh.
I had my eye on the Northfield bank when brother Bob did say,
"Cole if you undertake that job, you'll always curse the day."

We stationed out our pickets and up to the bank did go.
It was there upon the counter I struck my fatal blow.
Saying, "Hand your money over and make no long delay
for we're the noted Younger boys, and 'low no time to stay."

The cashier, being a true Westfield, refused our noble band;
it was Jesse James that pulled the trigger that killed that faithful man.
In vain we searched for money drawers while the battle raged outside,
until we saw our safety was a quick and desperate ride.

It was Charlie pitched off by his post, Doc Wheeler drew his gun.
He shot poor Charlie through the heart, who cried, "My God, I'm done."
Again Doc Wheeler drew his gun, results of which you'll see,
well, Miller he fell from his horse in mortal agony.

"Come boys, and ride for life and death; there's hundreds on our trail!"
The Younger boys were doomed to fate adn landed right in jail.
They've taken us to the Stillwater Jail to worry our lives away.
The James boys they can tell teh tale of that eventful day.

Jesse James

In Missouri there was a bad, bold man,
known from Seattle down to Birmingham.
Known across the states, Jesse James was his name
the famous bandit Jesse James.

Jesse James killed many a man,
and he robbed many a train.
But he always lent a helping hand
to the poor and those suffering in pain.

With his brother Frank he robbed the Chicago bank,
and stopped the Glendale train.
Then his brother Frank robbed the Gallatin bank
they went to Pittsville and did the same.

Jesse was well known in many a town.
He married a girl who loved him and dragged her down.
He had three children, each one brave,
and all of them broken hearted when he laid in his grave.

People held their breath when they heard of Jesses' death
wondered how he'd come to die.
It was one of his gang, that coward, Robert Ford,
shot poor Jesse on the sly.

He wanted the price on his head, so paid Jesse a call,
Jesse said to Ford, "Tonight we'll make a haul,
the western mails' runnin' through town."
When he went to get his rifle, a picture fell down.

Jesse said to Ford, "I'll hang it up again."
Stepped up on a chair,
Ford aimed a forty-four at Jesses' head,
shot him from behind, Jesse was dead.

That was the end of Jesse and his band
and though it was bad how he died,
won't no man, with the law in his hand
ever took Jesse James alive.

The Ballad of Billy the Kid

No one in the West ever was as renowned
as young Billy Bonney of Santa Fe town.
Of all of the outlaws that met a bad end,
none was so quick with a pistol or true to a friend.

Chorus: Billy rode North, Billy rode South,
plunderin' and killin' with a smile on his mouth.

Twelve in Silver City, he killed his first man,
then blazed a trail with a gun in each hand.
A man called his mother somethin' he regretted real soon
when he got stabbed to death in Joe Dyers' saloon.

He played monte and faro, winning each hand,
living in Tuscon off the fat of the land.
But the games were too easy, the life too slow,
he drifted on to old Mexico.

Chorus

He rode a wide range, he could get vile.
He shot fast and first when his blood got riled.
Before Billy the Kid reached his sad end,
his six-guns had notches for twenty-one men.

He stood off a posse, drove them away.
In McSweens' house in Lincoln he made his next play.
He was surrounded but fought till the house burned down,
then ran through the flames and got the hell out of town.

Chorus

Many men tracked him, followed him fast
in Arroyo Tivan captured him at last.
Took him to Lincoln, put him under guard
sentanced him to hang in the courthouse yard.

One day he played cards with J. Bell in his room,
the guard had no idea how close was his doom.
Billy slipped off a handcuff, knocked Bell in the head
then sntached his pistol and shot him dead.

Bob Olligner heard and ran to the spot
to see what had happened, who had been shot.
Billy looked down from a window and fired
on Ollinger who dropped to the ground and expired.

The Govenor sent for his fastest man,
Pat Garrett the Sheriff, told him his plan.
"There's twenty one men I've put bullets through,"
said Billy, "Sheriff Garrett will make twenty two."

Garrett knew where to find Billy in town,
had a girl at Pete Maxwell's, when the sun went down
the door was wide open, the night was hot
Pat Garrett walked right in and sat down on Pete's cot.

Billy had gone to cut some meat;
no hat on his head, no boots on his feet.
He saw two strangers in the gloom,
pulled his gun quick and backed into the room.

"Who's that? Maxwell?" Billy said askin' for names,
from Pat Garretts' pistol his answer came.
The swift Sheriffs' bullet went straight to its' mark.
Billy the Kid fell dead in the dark.

So Billy the Kid came to his end,
shot down by a man who was once his friend.
His grave is unmarked, by desert sands hid.
So ends the true story of Billy the Kid.

And another side of the story:

Billy was a bad man
carried a big gun.
Always after someone,
always on the run.

Shot someone every mornin'
before he made his mornin' meal.
If any man would sass him
he'd be sure to feel his steel.

He kept many in hot water,
stole from many a stage.
When he was full of liquor
he was always full of rage.

One day he met a man
who was a whole lot badder.
And now he's dead and we
ain't a whole lot sadder.