The glory of words is that they have a plethora of nuances.
I was born in Jackson County in the year of 44 I was just a youngster when I rode away to war Surrounded by the likes of Jesse, Frank, and Bob We were Rebel soldiers others said a mob
We assailed the Kansas border put Red Legs on the run I learned to make a living with my trusty knife and gun When the war was over I had no where to hide We outran the Yankees and my pretty bride
We rode to rob the riches of the Northfield Bank The long ride made us grouchy, hungry and rank The posse in pursuit of us shot us all to hell I ended up with my brothers in a prison cell
Bob died in this prison a few cells away from me We had come to low ends from a killing spree The life I had chosen to bring my family shame. I guess you know by now, Cole Younger is my name