|In the days of old there were robbers bold
Who lived in a forest deep;
In a coat of mail with a tin-plate tail
They would safely go to sleep.
Their lives were free as a bumble bee
And they sang away all care,
They drank rich wines and they cut up shines
And they knew not a thrill of fear.
They robbed the lads with the surplus skads
And gave to the ones who were poor,
They rescued maids from the donjon's shades
And they took them home once more.
In these latter days, with our modern ways
A bandit has little show;
As he makes his haul a leaden ball
Is apt to lay him low.
In the days gone by he winked his eye
As he dodged the archer's skill
And his cast steel pants would safely glance
The missles that sought to kill.
Now the sleuths and the cops are thick as hops
And they chase him around for sport;
His bean they slug and his face they mug
And they hustle him into court.
Then he goes to the pen with other men
O'er his ruined life to repine
And for ninety years weeps bitter tears
As he helps make binder twine.
Verdigris Valley Verse
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)