From the recording Between the Wars


Creek-Bank Ghetto Boys

From the sandy fords of shallow streams to the muddy Marais de Cygnes
We rode the Flint Hills thru the night out to them rolling plains
And we are the Creek-Bank Ghetto Boys, we all are mighty liars
And the sheriff never knows we’re near, hell, we don’t light no fires
Oh sing of the wounded land just below the border
Beneath shade of a native Oak there grows our greenback dollar

Get Grandpa’s old corn-knife unsheathed ‘n put her to the stone
We never take our guns out there ‘cause that’s against out code
And we haven’t come to rob the rich nor aid the helpless pauper
Though we don’t aim to slave all day just to earn a piece of copper
Our brothers of the night they howl like a lonesome distant train
The clouds flap their wings below the moon which shows the way

(chorus): And some would call us outlaws, but that’s a meaner game
For we’re the Creek-Bank Ghetto Boys a’ridin’ down the plains
Yeah, we’re the Creek-Bank Ghetto Boys, we’ll be gone come the break of day

We work within the timeless night where the dawn and evening wed
Where the wall between the dream is gone and we dance there with the dead
And we idolize each other’s sword and graft our souls to legend
And fancy as we flay the hemp, this is the foes green legions
But when the fever leaves the brow and we gather in a nest
With sober words we speak of one who watches o’er the harvest

The dawn is approaching, boys, can’t you see the pumpkin sky
As we stumble thru the trees below, can’t you hear the Blue Jay cry
In a ditch beside the road we wait with our gainful gunny sack
As the headlights halo behind the hill from the car of One-eyed Jack
Oh cut the lights and hit the door, fill ‘er to the jaws, roll
Let’s put a hundred miles between us and the local law

Now later when the split is made, angry words have flowed
For the greedy heart spins heads ‘n tails before that hard-earned gold
One night when the red blood had boiled, Oats up and spoke like this:
“Just what was paid the lad who held the horse for Frank ‘n Jess?”
Well you can wave your gun about and at the shadows aim
But best you take the hand you’re dealt when it ain’t but you to blame