Letter To Madeline

Looked like a hundred guns held on me

Hunkered by the shed of Detroit General & Company

Calling: Boy come out, we have you jailed

Beside the buck-shot door, I stood still

Wondering how the hell the bastards found me in those hills

And clinging to a letter that I wish I'd mailed

Go rest easy, Madeline

I'm bringing down the bank across this flooded county line

And when I get home, we'll have a grand old time

But don't you shed no tears or be surprised

If you get the word that your wild man has up and died

Just set me up a stone on that high hillside

Now in the pouring snow, sad, but swift

I headed down the highway

Hoping that the burden of my blues would lift

And praying that the whiskey would keep me brave

Oh, but I got caught in the cold

Looking like a hobo without no mercy from the road

And feeling like a dead man without a grave

Go rest easy, Madeline

I'm bringing down the bank across this flooded county line

And when I get home, we'll have a grand old time

But don't you shed no tears or be surprised

If you get the word that your wild man has up and died

Just set me up a stone on that high hillside

Oh my, oh my

Bloodied-up and chained, my legs pinned down

I woke to find my fate in the hands of four men gathered 'round

And cursing for the bag they knew I'd hid

And the more they stomped and moaned, the more I prayed

Feeling every spark flying off of that file and their rusted blade

Said: Better think it through, this is your last chance, kid

Oh, rest easy, Madeline

I'm bringing down the bank across this flooded county line

And when I get home, we'll have a grand old time

But don't you shed no tears or be surprised

If you get the word that your wild man has up and died

Just set me up a stone on that high hillside