Outlaws

Billy the Kid is one of the best known characters of the Old West. Unfortunately, parts of the his life have been built on legends.

Basically, Billy was born in the east and moved west with his mother to Silver City, NM. At a young age he was jailed for a minor offense and escaped. In Bonito, Az, he killed Frank Cahilll.

Billy arrived in Lincoln, NM during a time when the Murphy-Dolan Faction and John Tunstall were trying to secure beef contracts with the military in Fort Stanton. Tunstall had befriended Billy and a number of young drifters. The conflict between the Murphy-Dolan Faction and Tunstall turned ugly. John Tunstall was killed. Angered by the death of their friend, the drifters formed a group known as the 'Regulators'. As a self-impose police force, they tried to round up the people responsible for the death of Tunstall.. Many people died during this pursuit..

The plot becomes more complicated and Billy is a wanted man. Pat Garrett becomes sheriff of Lincoln county and begins his pursuit of Billy. The cat and mouse game between these two lasts about a year and a half. Billy is cornered, but escapes. Billy is caught and sentenced to die, but escapes. Finally, Pat Garrett waits for Billy in a room at Pete Maxwell's home in Fort Sumner, NM. Billy enters and Pat Garrett fires.

Billy the Kid is buried in the old Fort Sumner Post Cemetery near present day Fort Sumner, New Mexico. There are plenty of signs directing you to the grave.

RONALD BIGGS: THE MAN & THE MYTH

Who exactly is Ronald Arthur Biggs who was born in the London borough of Lambeth on August 8, 1929? Ron has out run and out lasted them all over four decades. He never intended to be the most famous element of the Great Train Robbery, neither did he plan to rob the train on his birthday, or become Britain's most wanted man. Life just happened like that for Ron and continues to for a man who has been called many things over the years, but deserves to be called a good father, a doting grandfather and a generous and caring friend to many of the people who have met him.

When he was born in Lambeth, Ron was the youngest of five. He had one sister and three brothers, one of whom, Terence, died at an early age. His family was working class but he never considered them poor or was left wanting for anything. In 1940, as the German bombing of London increased, Ron was separated from his family and evacuated to the safety of Devon and later to Cornwall. He returned to London at the end of 1942 and was sent to Santley Street School. In the May of 1943 his mother died. She was fifty-three.

It was not long after his return to London that the 15 year old Ron made his first appearance in court for stealing pencils from Littlewoods. That same year he made two further court appearances for petty pilfering but appeared to be back on the right track when in 1947 he volunteered for the Royal Air Force. It was during his time in the RAF that Ron learned how to cook. Cooking was something that his father, a professional cook at one time, had instilled in him and it is something he has never forgotten as he continues to work the gastronomic magic in his kitchen in Rio or around the barbecue pit in his garden.

However, after breaking into a chemist while AWOL from the RAF, Ron found himself up before the London Sessions in February 1949 which resulted in a six month prison sentence and a dishonourable discharge from the service. Released from Lewes Prison for Young Prisoners in June 1949 he was in court the following month for taking a car without the owner's permission. This time he was sent to Wormwood Scrubs and then on to Lewes where his path crossed for the first time with Bruce Reynolds, the man who would be the driving force and brains behind the Great Train Robbery. A life of crime, court appearances and imprisonment was to follow over the next 14 years.

Ron has never complained about those fourteen years between 1949 and 1963, perhaps because in October 1957 he met Charmian Powell, the future Mrs Biggs. The two married on February 20 1960, and a first son, Nicholas, who was tragically to die in a car crash in Australia in 1971, was born the same year. A second son. Christopher, was to come along in 1963 and a third, Farley, would be added when the couple were on the run in Australia in 1967.

The story of the HOTEL CONGRESS FIRE OF 1934 and the events leading up to the
CAPTURE OF JOHN DILLINGER and his gang.



PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER 1

For thirteen violent months back in the 1930's John Dillinger and his gang swept through the Middle
West – and not before or since has one criminal fascinated or frightened so many people. Dillinger has
come to symbolize PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER 1. The crime world of the Depression was unique – it
could rob almost at will (the Indiana State Police, for instance, had only forty one members, including
clerks and typists) and it could find haven in »open« cities whose officials bought peace with protection.
Multiple bank robberies, wild chase scenes, daring prison breaks and violent machine gun battles...all
were part of a crime wave unparalleled in our modern history. John Dillinger's brief but significant career
as an outlaw was the culmination of years of abuse, rebellion and finally
revenge. Before his first release from the Indiana state prison he was
»schooled« by its most dangerous inmates and in return, once he was free
he engineered their escapes. From an amateur whose robberies often
verged on the comic, he quickly became an accomplished criminal. His
early publicity was an attempt by police to create jealousy in the gang, but
Dillinger soon lived up to his notices. His daring escapes – single handed at
Crown Point, for instance, or through the death defying fire of FBI agents
at Little Bohemia Lodge – and his countless bank robberies made his name
a household word. He eluded the lawmen of several different states and the
growing power of the FBI until a unique set of circumstances, including the
fire at the Hotel Congress and his subsequent arrest in Tucson, led to his
death on the sidewalk in front of a Chicago movie house.

TUCSON 1934

Tucson, a city of about 30,000, still had one foot in its colorful pioneer past. Iron hitching posts dotted
Congress Street. It was a friendly, free-and-easy western town with three well-run houses of prostitution
operating openly. Tucson was growing with phenomenal speed because of its climate, yet it too had been
hard hit by the Depression, and tourists were made to feel especially
welcome. This was the city the Dillinger gang chose to »lay low« in, to
escape the »heat« back east. Little did they realize how hot Tucson can
get.

THE HOTEL CONGRESS FIRE

Early in the morning of January 22,1934, an oil furnace in the
basement near the elevator shaft caught fire. From that point the fire
shot rapidly up the elevator shaft and began to spread on the then
existing third floor. (The elevator was located where the present
entrance to the Tap Room is). Glued to her telephone switch box,
Mrs. Nelson, the day desk clerk, stuck to her post awakening guests
and summoning them from their rooms. As she completed her calls
on the second floor, flames reached the telephone system and cut off
communications. Soon fire workers and police hurried along the
corridors. Guests, awakened by the shouted warnings of »FIRE!«,
rushed from their rooms and escaped to the street, many of them only partly clad. Among the registered
guests, all under aliases, were John Dillinger and six of his notorious gang members: Mr. & Mrs. Frank
Sullivan – a.k.a. John Dillinger & Billie Frechette Mr. & Mrs. James Taylor – a.k.a. Harry Pierpont and
Mary Kinder Mr. & Mrs. Art Long a.k.a. Russell Clark & Opal Long J.C.Davies – a.k.a. Charles Makley
These seven took an extremely long time to get their luggage together and when they finally went to exit
the hotel, the hallways were filled with smoke, the stairs and elevators in flames; the Dillinger gang was
trapped. Not a moment too soon, an aerial ladder of the firemen swung up to the window ledges of the
third floor. With the aid of members of the fire department, the four men and three women descended
the ladders to the street. On the urgent request of Davis and Long, along with a generous $12 tip, firemen
William Benedict and Kenneth Pender went back up to the third story rooms and rescued the luggage
that had almost cost the seven their lives. In carrying the luggage down, Benedict and Pender found that
several pieces were extremely heavy. It was revealed later on, when police took charge of them, that the
expensive suitcases contained a fine collection of machine guns, pistols, ammunition and bullet proof
vests. Three days after the fire, Benedict and Pender, finishing routine duties at the station, were reading
a copy of True Detective Mysteries. On the page devoted to Line-Up, they
recognized the face of the man who had tipped them so generously to
rescue his luggage. His name was Russell Clark – wanted for bank
robbery, murder, prison escape and a member of the feared Dillinger
Gang. After notifying the police, Makley was also identified from police
photo files and the department then suspected what had previously been
unimaginable; Dillinger and his gang were in Tucson. Following the fire,
Dillinger, Frechette,Pierpont and Kinder moved into a motel on South
Sixth. Clark, Makley and Long moved into a comfortable one story house.

CAPTURED

Coincidentally, on the night preceeding the hotel fire, Mr. Long (Russell Clark) ran into two other hotel
guests at a local Tucson night spot. These men, Mr. Rosen and Mr. Russalsaw claimed that Long greeted
them like long lost friends. He was a bit tight, and more than a bit talkative. His talk – and very
convincing talk – ran to easy money...and how it could be made with a machine gun. The story of easy
money, machine guns and robbed banks remained vivid in the minds of Rosen
and Russalsaw. They had also seen Long and his party spend money freely
and had noticed one other significant fact: Every male member of the party
was armed. The same day that the firemen discovered »Mr. Long« in a True
Detective Line-Up, Rosen and Russalsaw approached patrolman Harry Lesly
as he was walking his beat and told him about the armed men and robbery
talk they had encountered a few nights before. Lesly, half convinced that the
men he was told about were bent on robbery, stepped into a nearby call box
and rang the station. This information, combined with the firemens
identification of Clark, convinced the chief of police that they had struck pay
dirt. Not only pay dirt; Rosen and Russalsaw knew the address of Clark,
Makley and Long. At the house near the University (the house still stands at
927 Second Avenue North) a stake out ensued. A new Studebaker sedan was parked near the house.
Someone was in residence and the police did not have long to wait. A short, stocky man, neatly dressed,
came out accompanied by a woman. They stepped into the Studebaker and drove off toward downtown.
The police followed. When the Studebaker stopped at an electrical store where both the man and the
woman entered, it was noted that the man limped. The officers followed them in and told the man that he
was under arrest as a fugitive from justice. This man, who claimed to be J.C.Davies, was brought into the
police department and, through fingerprinting, identified as Charles Makley. The woman was an
»aquaintance« he had met the night before. She was released. It was decided to »force« the stake out
further by sending an officer Sherman up to the house as a stranger or salesman in search of an address.
With envelope in hand, he stepped up on the porch and rang the bell. The door swung open and a
woman asked what he wanted. Sherman, half extending the letter, said that he wanted to see a "Mr.
Clark". At the same he stepped forward and swung the door fully open and, to his surprise, Clark was
just inside! Drawing his pistol, he told the startled Clark to throw up his hands. But instead, Clark
grabbed the cylinder of the pistol and a fight ensued. The two men whirled each other about the room
while the woman tried to grab and kick the officer. Clark dragged Sherman into the bedroom where
under the pillow lay his own .38 automatic. Suddenly officers Ford and Eyman sprang through the
doorway and Ford, pistol in hand, struck twice, accurately, against Clark's head. Clark, dazed by the
blows, reeled to one side and dropped his grip on Sherman's gun. The subdued gangster and the woman
were handcuffed and loaded into the police car. They were soon identified as Russell Clark and Opal
Long. Shortly after the arrest of Clark and Long, officers Nolan and Eyeman were driving down South
Sixth on a tip that Pierpont and Dillinger were staying at a motel there. As they were driving, Nolan
recognized a Buick going the opposite direction that fit the description of Pierpont's car. The officers
made a U turn, caught up to the car and sounded their horn. The Buick pulled over. Eyeman approached
the vehicle and apologetically pointed out that Pierpont didn't have a visitor's inspection sticker,
suggesting he get one or he'd be stopped by every other officer in town. »I'll even ride down with you.«
he said, getting into the back seat. It was filled with luggage and he had to sit on a suitcase. Little did he
know that it contained a machine gun, several revolvers and ammunition. Fooled by Eyeman's easy
manner, and not knowing the fate of his partners in crime, Pierpont decided to bluff it out. Eyeman rode
downtown with a pistol pointed at Pierpont's back. Pierpont walked right into the trap, not suspecting a
thing until he saw the luggage of Makley and Clark in Chief Wollard's office. He whirled and grabbed for
the gun under his left arm. Eyeman drew faster. »Drop it.« Pierpont obeyed, but his right hand went for
a second gun in his belt. Eyeman rammed his gun in Pierpont's ribs while another officer grasped his
arms. Dillinger's »trigger man« was put behind bars. It was dusk when a new stake out team arrived at
the house on Second Avenue North where, it had been decided, Dillinger might show up. Everyone's
timing couldn't have been better coordinated. As officer Walker went around to the broken-down back
door and officer Herron was parking the car, Dillinger and Billie Frechette drove by, made a U turn and
stopped in front of the house. They had just returned from a sight- seeing trip and, of course, had no
idea that their companions were in jail. Billie waited in the car while Dillinger approached the house to
see if it was the right address. Hearing footsteps, he turned and saw a short, stocky man. In the dim
twilight he thought it was Makley, but it was Herron coming up behind him. Just as Herron drew his .38,
Walker kicked open the screen door and shouted »Stick em' up!« Dillinger slowly put up his hands and
marched off the porch to the sidewalk. Billie was ordered out of the car and told to put her hands on her
head. As Dillinger was searched his hands began to slowly drop. Walker, noticing his moves, pulled the
hammer back on his gun. »Reach for the moon!«, he said. »Or I'll cut you in two.« Dillinger obeyed,
muttering, »Well I'll be damned.« In the space of five hours, without firing a single shot, the police of
small town Tucson had done what the combined forces of several states and the city of Chicago had tried
so long and unsuccessfully to do. Dillinger was extradited by plane to Chicago where he was placed in the
county jail at Crown Point. A month later he stunned the nation by
single-handedly escaping prison with a pistol carved fron an old washboard
and blackened with boot polish.

THE LADY IN RED

On July 22, 1934, five months after his bold prison break, Dillinger was
exiting the Biograph Theater in Chicago with two women. One of them was
Anna Sage wearing a signal red dress. Threatened with deportation by FBI
agent Marvin Pervis, Anna, a Romanian brothel runner and long time friend
of the gang's, had been forced to inform them of Dillinger's whereabouts.
Never given a chance to surrender, John Dillinger was gunned down by
Pervis and other FBI agents in front of the theater. His street execution was
witnessed by throngs of bystanders, many of which dipped their skirts and
handkerchiefs in Dillinger's blood. For months after the shooting, pieces of
blood soaked cloth and vials of blood could be purchased on the streets of Chicago. Anna was given
$5,000 reward money and promptly deported to Romania.

Information for this article was taken from »The Dillinger Days«, by John Toland; »Bloodletters and Badmen«, by Jay
Robert Nash; »True Detective Mysteries«, 1934, cover story by Tucson Chief of Police C.A.Wollard. Compiled and edited
by Gary Patch, 1995.

Charles »Pretty Boy« Floyd

Early Life: Charles Arthur Floyd, soon to be called » Chock« Floyd, was born on February 3, 1904 in Georgia, one of seven children, but moved to a small farming community in Oklahoma, which he was to call home. His parents had a small farm, they were dirt-poor. His father spent most of his time trying to stay one step ahead of foreclosure. Droughts, plagues and dust storms brought farm production down to a crawl. In an attempt to help keep themselves fed the family became involved in the bootlegging business.

In 1921 he married 16 year old Ruby Hargrove, they eventually had a son, Jack Dempsey Floyd. Money was scarce. Looking for a better life he left his home and travelled north looking for harvest work. Many nights were spent in hobo camps. Charles was ready to work but there just wasn't any available. Eventually he gave up looking and brought his first gun. It wasn't long after that, at the age of 18, he pulled his first crime. He held up a post office for $350 in pennies. This was »easy money«. He was arrested on suspicion of the crime but his father gave him an alibi.
He took the train to St. Louis where he robbed a Kroger store of approximately $16,000. The money kept them for a few weeks but after spending it on expensive clothes and big meals they were broke again. He was arrested because local police found it suspicious that he had new clothes and a new Ford. When they searched his house they found some of the money still in it's wrapper. He was sentenced to 5 years in the Jefferson City Penitentiary. During his incarceration his wife gave birth to their son, Jackie, and divorced him. He was released after 3 years and vowed never to be locked up again.

Later life and criminal history:On a visit to his parents farm he discovered that his father had been shot to death in a family feud with J. Mills. The accused was aquitted of the crime. Charles took his father's rifle went into the hills and J. Mills was never seen again.

In the mid 1920's Floyd lived and operated in the East Liverpool, Ohio area as a hired gun for the bootleggers and rum-runners along the Midland, PA and Steubenville, OH stretch of the Ohio River. He became most notorious after he left the East Liverpool area. He headed west and found refuge in »Tom's Town« (now Kansas City), a town run by Tom Pendegast. Hired guns, murderer's and successful gangsters hung out here. It was here that he learned to use a machine gun and aquires the nickname »Pretty Boy«. It was a name given him by a madam, Beulah Baird Ash, in a brothel and he hated it. However, it stuck and made him into a colorful criminal. Floyd is reputed to have maintained relationships with both Ruby and Beulah throughout the rest of his life even posing as their husbands under assumed names.

During the next 12 years he robbed as many as 30 banks, killing 10 men. During his crime sprees in Oklahoma the bank insurance rates doubled. He filed a notch in his pocket-watch for everyone he killed. His first bank robbery is reported to have been the Farmers and Merchants bank in Sylvania, Ohio. Floyd was arrested at his Akron, Ohio hideout for this crime. He was tried and convicted but escaped by jumping out of the train window near Kenton, Ohio while on his way to the Ohio Penitentiary.

The first person he killed was a police officer, Ralph Castner, who stopped him from robbing a Bowling Green, Ohio bank on April 16, 1931. At this time Floyd was accompanied by William (Willis) Miller, known as »Billy the Killer«, Beulah and her sister Rose. A clerk in a store recognized them when they were purchasing dresses for the women. The clerk alerted the police who arrived as the group were walking down the street. As they ordered the group to stop, Floyd and Miller opened fire. Castner was killed, Chief Carl Galliher dropped to the ground, killing Miller and injuring Beulah, 21. Rose Baird, 23 was captured but Floyd escaped in a car.

On June 17, 1933 Floyd and an associate, Adam Richetti were reported as the culprits behind the » Union Station Massacre « in Kansas City where 5 men including FBI agent, Raymond Caffrey were gunned down in an attempt to free Frank »Gentleman« Nash a notorious underworld figure. Floyd maintained to his death that he was never involved in this crime.

During the next 17 months Floyd and Richetti were hunted by every law enforcement officer in the country. After the capture and death of John Dillinger, Floyd was named as Public Enemy No.1 with a $23,000 dollar dead or alive reward on his head. Floyds reign of terror brought him back to the East Liverpool area.


Folk Stories and Quotes about his life: Jack Floyd, although he saw his father infrequently, said in an article for the San Fransisco Examiner June 20, 1982, »He was a fun guy to be around. He was like a regular father. He always had some puppies or other presents for me. What I knew about him didn't keep me from loving him.«

He was a folk hero to the people of Oklahoma who perceived him as a »Sagebrush Robin Hood«, stealing from the rich banks to help the poor eat by buying them groceries and tearing up their mortgages during the robberies. He has been written into legend through song, in Woody Guthrie's »Pretty Boy« Floyd.

He was never part of a gang. He worked with a few trusted accomplices. Boldly entering banks in broad daylight and never wearing a mask. He was a gentleman even in his crimes, always well groomed, immaculately dressed and courteous to his victims.

Final Days: On October 19, 1934 he was spotted after three men dressed as hunters and carrying shotguns robbed the Tiltonsville Peoples Bank. Both Adam Richetti and »Pretty Boy« Floyd were positively identified as two of the men involved. Police and FBI were put on alert throughout Ohio for the suspects. The following day a shootout between two criminals and the Wellsville, Ohio Police ended in the capture of Richetti. Floyd escaped, kidnapping a Wellsville florist and stealing his car.

On October 22, 1934 things would finally come to a fatal end for »Pretty Boy« Floyd. The local police were called out, including Chief McDermott and patrolman Chester Smith. Firearms were issued, but Smith refused a weapon, instead, he kept his 32-20 Winchester Rifle. He told everyone that if they found Floyd he would be running. They checked all the backroads in the area that Floyd had been reported. Finally they came to the Conkle farm on Sprucevale Rd.

Floyd had knocked on the Conkle farm door posing as a lost hunter and had asked for a ride to the bus line. Ellen Conkle took pity on him and welcomed him into her home, feeding him a meal for which he paid $1. After eating, Mrs. Conkle volunteered her brother, Stewart Dyke, to drive Floyd to the bus station. The Dyke's and Floyd were getting into the car when two police cars were spotted speeding along the narrow dirt road. Floyd jumped from the car to hide behind a corn crib. As the police approached the farm they spotted a man behind the corn crib. Chester Smith recognized the face. Floyd started to flee. After being told to halt and not doing so Smith fired a shot from his rifle hitting Floyd in the arm. Floyd dropped his gun, grabbed his right forearm where he had been hit, but still jumped up and continued to run, darting for cover in the wooded area nearby. After another call to halt which also went unheeded Floyd was shot again, in his back right shoulder. The federal agents and local police all started firing at this time. Floyd fell to the ground, his gun by his side. Smith checked the body, he was not yet dead, and noticed that Floyd had another weapon in his belt. He had two Colt .45 automatics but never fire a single shot.
Patrolmen Smith, Roth and Montgomery carried Floyd to the shade of an apple tree. »He was alive when we carried him to the apple tree. But he died then within minutes.« Smith said. A call was placed to J. Edgar Hoover. Smith recalls, »Floyd was dead before Purvis returned (about 4:25 p.m.). We put Floyd's body in the back seat of the local police car, propping him up between me and Curly. That's how we hauled him to East Liverpool and turned him over to the Sturgis Funeral Home.« Floyd had $120 in his pockets.
There is much speculation about the actual events of the fateful day. One report states that Agent Purvis of the FBI ordered Floyd shot whilst he was sitting under the apple tree because he refused to answer when asked if he was involved in the Kansas City Massacre.
Smith's daughter said that Smith took the days events in a matter-of-fact way, coming home late for supper and just stating that he didn't have time to eat because he had just shot »Pretty Boy« Floyd. He washed up, changed and went back to work.

At the Funeral Home: Although Floyd's mother did not want her son's body viewed by the public, by the time Chief McDermott had received her wire there were thousands of people wanting to view the notorious criminal. He would be later shipped back to Oklahoma but in the mean time over 10,000 people passed by the body from 8:30 p.m. and 11:15 p.m., about 50 per minute. The mob had stormed the Funeral home and in the space of three hours, the porch railing had been torn off, shrubbery trampled and the lawn completely ruined.

Final resting place: At 11:30 a.m. on Tuesday October 23, 1934 Charles Arthur » Pretty Boy « Floyd's body left East Liverpool in a baggage car. One year before at the Akins Cemetery in Sallisaw, Oklahoma, Floyd had told his mother,
»Right here is where you can put me. I expect to go down soon with lead in me. Maybe the sooner the better. Bury me deep. « 20,000 people attended his funeral. His head stone has been desecrated by souvenir hunters and was stolen in 1985. A new headstone now marks his grave.

The Story of Bonnie and Clyde

Bonnie Parker (1934)

You've read the story of Jesse James--
Of how he lived and died;
If you're still in need
Of something to read
Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang.
I'm sure you all have read
How they rob and steal
And those who squeal
Are usually found dying or dead.

There's lots of untruths to these write-ups;
They're not so ruthless as that;
Their nature is raw;
They hate the law--
The stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.

They call them cold-blooded killers;
They say they are heartless and mean;
But I say this with pride,
That I once knew Clyde
When he was honest and upright and clean.

But the laws fooled around,
Kept taking him down
And locking him up in a cell,
Till he said to me,
"I'll never be free,
So I'll meet a few of them in hell."

The road was so dimly lighted;
There were no highway signs to guide;
But they made up their minds
If all roads were blind,
They wouldn't give up till they died.

The road gets dimmer and dimmer;
Sometimes you can hardly see;
But it's fight, man to man,
And do all you can,
For they know they can never be free.

From heart-break some people have suffered;
From weariness some people have died;
But take it all in all,
Our troubles are small
Till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.

If a policeman is killed in Dallas,
And they have no clue or guide;
If they can't find a fiend,
They just wipe their slate clean
And hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.

There's two crimes committed in America
Not accredited to the Barrow mob;
They had no hand
In the kidnap demand,
Nor the Kansas City Depot job.

A newsboy once said to his buddy:
"I wish old Clyde would get jumped;
In these awful hard times
We'd make a few dimes
If five or six cops would get bumped."

The police haven't got the report yet,
But Clyde called me up today;
He said, "Don't start any fights--
We aren't working nights--
We're joining the NRA."

From Irving to West Dallas viaduct
Is known as the Great Divide,
Where the women are kin,
And the men are men,
And they won't »stool« on Bonnie and Clyde.

If they try to act like citizens
And rent them a nice little flat,
About the third night
They're invited to fight
By a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.

They don't think they're too smart or desperate,
They know that the law always wins;
They've been shot at before,
But they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.

Some day they'll go down together;
They'll bury them side by side;
To few it'll be grief--
To the law a relief--
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.