Written by Woody Guthrie
Recorded by Bob Dylan in his garage studio, spring 1987 for the
Guthrie tribute album Folkways: A Vision Shared
Tabbed by Eyolf Østrem
How long the held notes (such as at “'round” in the first verse) are held, varies between the verses.
Intro, incl. basic “G” pattern:
: . . . : . . . : . . . : . . : . . . |---33--33--33--33|-----------------|-----------------|-------------|------- |---00--00--00--00|---- etc. ----|-----------------|-------------|------- |---00--00--00--00|-----------------|-----------------|-------------|------- |-----2---0-------|-----h2--0-------|-----0-------h2--|-2---h2--0---|------- |-------------h2--|-------------h2--|-----------------|-----------20|------- |-3---------------|-3---------------|-3-------3-------|-------------|-3-----
G . . . . .
If you'll gather 'round me, people,
C G
A story I will tell
C /g D/f#
About Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
G
Oklahoma knew him well.
It was in the town of Shawnee,
On a Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in a wagon
And into town they rode.
There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Using vulgar words of language,
An' his wife she overheard.
Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
And in the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.
Now he took to the hills and timber
To live the life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.
He took to the trees and timber
On the Canadian river shore,
And Pretty Boy found a welcome
At every farmer's door.
[Instrumental verse, replacing the verse: But a many a starving farmer The same old story told How the outlaw paid their mortgage And saved their little homes.]
Others tell you of a stranger That come to beg a meal, And underneath the napkin Left a thousand dollar bill. T'was in Oklahoma City, It was on a Christmas Day, There come a whole car load of groceries And a letter that did say: You say that I'm an outlaw, You say that I'm a thief. Well, here's a Christmas dinner For the families on relief. Well, as through this world I've rambled I've seen lots of funny men; Some will rob you with a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen. But as through this world you ramble, As through this world you roam, You won't never see an outlaw Drive a family from their home. [Two instrumental verses, then:]
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