Sixteen cold black horses
strung up in the valley
I'd drowned them by the check line till I found that girl of mine
Walked up to the chief policeman,
said son what time is it?
He started
looking me over,
he put the snippers on my wrist
Pulled my gun from the side and shot him,
he fell dead at my feet
Took the keys and locked the handcuffs,
Lord I beat it all down
the street
Robbed a bank in the state of Illinois,
wrecked a senile passenger train
If I don't find that woman,
Lord I'll do these things over again
The law, they overtook me,
surrounded me with guns
Said I'll give you good credit for your nerve,
but your race is almost round
Sitting in this dingy dark cell,
thirteen more steps to take
When they strap me down in that chair,
for the last breath I'll take