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John wesley harding |
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Was a friend to the poor, |
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He trav'led with a gun in ev'ry hand. |
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All along this countryside, |
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He opened a many a door, |
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But he was never known |
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To hurt a honest man. |
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music |
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'twas down in chaynee county, |
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A time they talk about, |
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With his lady by his side |
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He took a stand. |
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And soon the situation there |
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Was all but straightened out, |
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For he was always known |
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To lend a helping hand. |
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music |
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All across the telegraph |
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His name it did resound, |
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But no charge held against him |
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Could they prove. |
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And there was no man around |
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Who could track or chain him down, |
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He was never known |
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To make a foolish move. |
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music |
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