Posse

The posse pursues me, in the distance I see, the lynch mob rides with them, all looking for me. I'm pleading "not guilty" twas some other soul, he crossed the wrong bridge without paying the toll. So now they have caught me, I don't think it is fair, my neck has rope burn, there's bark in my hair. The last thing I say, as I sit in the grass, the joke is on them, the tree won't hold my fat-ass.