Eight mouths open crying to be fed
Sixteen hands, a single loaf of bread
Two cold eyes too sad to shed a tear
Eighteen years that I’ve been living here
Oh my brothers, oh my sisters
You won’t see me again
I’ve headed out west to join the Williams gang
Sixteen coaches running down the track
Eight men ride through the night so black
Four gunshots go through the railman’s head
One more man lies in a pool of red
Oh my brothers, oh my sisters
I’m on this dusty plain
I rob every stagecoach and passenger train
One bright morning fast asleep in bed
One soft voice coos, «Up you sleepy head»
Two thick barrels pressed against my face
Four strong hands drag me from this place
Tell my brothers, tell my sisters
They won’t see me again
For early next morning by rope I will hang
See my brothers, see my sisters
See my mother’s face
They’ve come much too late for by rope I am hanged