Sung by: Robert B. Stark
Recorded in Miller, AR, 6/23/53

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I'm a man of a highway band;
Cole Younger is my name.
And it's many depredations
Have brought my friends to shame,
While robbing of the Northfield Bank,
I never can deny.
But now I am a poor prisoner;
In Stillwater jail I lie.

We saddled up our horses,
And we will ride away.
We'll ride in revenge of our father's death,
Until our dying day,
And fight the north guerillas
Until the day we die.

The first bold robbing I ever done
Brought tears into my eyes:
I robbed a California miner;
I bid him go his way.
I robbed him of his good money
And bid him go his way,
And it's that I shall be sorry of
Until my dying day.

We started out for Texas,
That good old Lone Star state.
'Twas on the Nebraska prairie,
The James boys we did meet.
With swords, bowie knives, revolver,
We all began to play,
And drinking of good whiskey, boys,
To pass the time away.

'Twas there we met the U.P. train;
We took her on surprise.
Killed fireman, engineerman--
Conductor escaped alive.
We robbed them of their good money,
Condemned them all to die,
And it's now their bodies lie moldering
Beneath the Nebraska sky.

We saddled up our horses
And northful we did go
To the God-forsaken country
Called Minnesot-e-oo.
I had my eyes on the Northfield Bank
When Brother Bob did say,
"If ever you attempt that, Cole,
You'll sure regret the day."

We stationed out our pickets;
Up to the bank did go.
'Twas there upon the counter
We struck our fatal blow.
Says we, "Hand up your money,
And make no further delay,
For we're the noted Younger boys.
We spare you no time to play."

Also found in Randolph, Vol. II, #131.

All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted

The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection
Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas
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