Bandit Wages

Floyd Henderson

He prowls the border this bandit bold
Robbin' honest folk of hard-won gold
Or rustlin' steers along the border

To pay for whiskey or food he orders
Never seein' that all his maraudin'
Would pay as well if he put his time in
As an honest miner or steer tender
With no law peekin' in at his winder
Lookin' to pen and shackle with irons
The outlaw if ever he mistakes his environs
And errantly strays across that line
That eventually leads to a box of pine.