Some punk with a shotgun
Killed young Danny Bailey
In cold blood, in the lobby
Of a downtown motel.
Killed him in anger,
A force he couldn't handle
Helped pull the trigger
That cut short his life.
And there's not many knew him
The way that we did,
Sure enough he was a wild one
But then aren't most hungry kids?
Now it's all over, Danny Bailey,
And the harvest is in;
Dillinger's dead –
I guess the cops won again.
Now it's all over, Danny Bailey,
And the harvest is in.
We're running short of heroes
Back up here in the hills;
Without Danny Bailey
We're gonna have to break up our stills.
So mark his grave well,
‘Cause Kentucky loved him;
Born and raised proper,
I guess life just bugged him.
And he found faith in danger,
A life-style he lived by,
A runnin' gun youngster
In a sad restless age.