Ballad Of An Outlaw
My story is true, though I’ve not been in chains
Today I’ll be free, for I have been slain
Twenty long years in these mountains I’ve roamed
Calling them mother, church and home

Seeing a wrong that I wanted to right
I ended a life and ran in the night
Finding no peace, just a bed made of stone
Longing for mother, church and home

Early in springtime, still snow on the ground
I went to a hill above my old town
Spotting a man that I once used to know
Courting my lover, church and home

Then one day
A bullet came my way
Shot down cold
Never to grow old

Will they all weep when they hear I am dead
Or will they salute my killer instead
I know I’ll rest when they lower me down
Close to my mother, church and home