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This Man Of No Account
Forget me if you can, Why I ain't of no account. Pull down your window shades, When I ride by Upon my stallion mount. Bankers hide your money, Merchants your pocket change. Mothers whisper Tales of my wicked name. Ah, but the songs of me That'll be sung After I'm caught and hung. The brazen deeds And soiled maidens I've won. Men will lust in envy To do what I have done. You won't forget about me, This man of no account, Who rides beneath your window Upon his stallion mount. |