Jesse James 1847-1872

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.