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I won't begin to list his jobs 
because we’ve heard them all,
from confederate raider to stick
up man, he had a bad man’s gaul

His fame spread with noteriety
across the Yankee plain, but he was 
just an outlaw man, he don’t deserve
no fame

But in them days, imagination ruled 
the newsman’s pen, and outlaws were 
the magic, that ruled the why and when

Some said he was a Robin Hood and 
helped the wretched poor, there is no 
record of this game, Cole Younger
new the score

While home one day in leafy fall
he moved  a picture on the wall, 
Bob Ford shot Jesse’s 45, trustful
friend did not survive  

And for his efforts, Bob “the coward” got
a shotgun to the throat, cos folks were 
getting downright tired, of the back-shooter’s 
sickly tote.



And though we like the stirrin turns we think 
a bandits life, give thought to poor Zerelda,
Jesse's sad dear wife

Lost in shame and washing clothes to make
a cent or two, she died in rotten poverty 
as Jesse’s legend grew.

But Jesse was an icon, his” adventure” we still crave,
and in today’s confection, still we think him brave.

And now they’re lying side by side, in  St Joseph’s 
cemetary, and if you mused where  they’re took,
their waiting Hades ferry.

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