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