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Belle Starr could’ve starved on that old guitar
But wasn’t ol’ Belle supposed to go far
As guilty as sin —and much chagrin
Belle Starr didn’t play no violin
She squeezed the keys and oh my geez
Played for the kids there on her knees
Made them happy thinking of Jesus
Then war loomed over that lawless village
Seemed all was ripe for rape and pillage
Rack ‘n ruin, but not for croonin’
The first rule of war: make a man’s play thing
But Belle was a poet, she just wanted to sing
She could ride like a demon and shoot like a king
Head south young girl where the bank robbers go
Where the James boys go, Cole Younger & co.
No arm twistin’ there with the Youngers in the air
To the life she rode into trouble and strife
The queen of the outlaws and lover of chiefs
Lost was her calling as a poet and a thief
Lost was her soul, fine were her arts
But lost was her neck and new were her scars
And lost was her cause, but it kept her from starving
And lost were the days of chasing her skirts
Forever she will reign as the queen of crime
But forever we’ll all wonder if it wasn’t her time
’Cause Belle Starr could’ve starred on that old guitar
Wasn’t ol’ Belle supposed to go far
As guilty as sin and much chagrin
But Belle Starr didn’t play no violin
