A baitín ’na roithleán
Chuamar beirt, ag marcaíocht, sir
Is fuair deichniúr gan pheaca bás.
D’fhágamarna Lincoln, Nebraska
Agus gunna teasctha ar mo ghlúin
Go dtí na drochthailte, Wyoming,
Dheineas slad agus mór-mharú.
Níl aon chathú orm ná brón
As an méid ‘tá curtha i gcrích
Ar a laghad ar feadh tamaillín
Le bheith fíor bhí sé lán de spraoi.
An bhreith a tugadh ná go rabhamar ciontach
Is dúirt an breitheamh go bhfaighinnse bás
Meán oíche i stóras príosúin
Is strapaí leathair orm á bhfásc’.
Sheriff, ag nóiméad na fírinne
Mo mhuineál snaptha siar
Le do thoil bíodh m’ainnir ghleoite
Ar mo dhá ghlúin bhocht’ ina suí.
Ní don saol seo mé dar leosan
San fholús ollmhór beidh m’anamsa ar ball:
Cén fáth a ndearna mé gach a ndearna mé
Bhuel, sir, is suarach an saol é ‘ndeireadh thiar thall.
Nebraska
I saw her standing on her front lawn
Just twirling her baton
Me and her went for a ride, sir
And ten innocent people died
From the town of Lincoln, Nebraska
With a sawed off .410 on my lap
Through to the badlands of Wyoming
I killed everything in my path
I can't say that I'm sorry
For the things that we done
At least for a little while, sir
Me and her we had us some fun
Now the jury brought in a guilty verdict
And the judge he sentenced me to death
Midnight in a prison storeroom
With leather straps across my chest
Sheriff, when the man pulls that switch, sir
And snaps my poor head back
You make sure my pretty baby
Is sitting right there on my lap
They declared me unfit to live
Said into that great void my soul'd be hurled
They wanted to know why I did what I did
Well sir I guess there's just a meanness in this world