Jesse James was a lad that killed many a man,
Three children, they were brave,
But the dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard
Has laid poor Jesse in his grave.
I wonder how he did feel,
For he ate of Jesse's bread, and he slept in Jesse's bed,
Then he laid poor Jesse in his grave.
He never would see a man suffer pain;
And with his brother Frank, he robbed the Chicago bank,
And stopped the Gendale train.
And carried the money from the town;
It was in this very place that they had a little race,
For they shot Captain Sheets to the ground.
And there they did the same;
With the agent on his knees, he delivered up the keys
To the outlaws, Frank and Jesse James.
They robbed the Glendale train.
The people they did say, for many miles away
It was robbed by Frank and Jesse James.
Talking with his family brave.
Robert Ford came along like a thief in the night
And laid poor Jesse in his grave.
And wondered how he came to die;
It was one of the gang called little Robert Ford,
He shot poor Jesse on the sly.
The devil will be upon his knee.
He was born one day in the County of Clay
And came from a solitary race.
As soon as the news did arrive.
He said there was no man, with the law in his hand,
Who could take Jesse James while alive.
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