| 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
Albert Stroud
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)
Page 46
Visit
the Home Page for Kansas