Letter to Madeline

Looked like a hundred guns, held on me

Hunkered by the shed, a Detroit general and company

A callin', "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 wished I'd mailed

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's 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

Hopin' that the burden of my blues would lift

And prayin' that the whiskey would keep me brave

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

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's up and died

Just set me up a stone on that high hillside

Oh my, oh my

Well, bloodied up and chained

My legs pinned down

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

Gathered around, cursing for the bag they knew I'd hid

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

Feelin' every spark flyin' 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's up and died

Just set me up a stone on that high hillside