To the rich man's bright lodges I ride in this wind

On my good horse I call you my shiny Black Bess

To the playhouse of fortune

to take the bright silver

And gold you have taken from somebody else



As we go riding in the damp foggy midnight

You snort, my good pony, and you give me your best

For you know, and I know, good horse,

'mongst the rich ones

How oftimes we go there an unwelcome guest



I've never took food from the widows and orphans

And never a hard working man I oppressed

So take your pace easy,

for home soon like lightning

We soon will be riding, my shiny Black Bess



No fat rich man's pony can e'er overtake you

And there's not a rider from the east to the west

Could hold you a light

in this dark mist and midnight

When the potbellied thieves

chase their unwelcome guest



I don't know, good horse,

as we trot in this dark here

if robbing the rich is for worse or for best

They take it by stealing and lying and gambling

And I take it my way, my shiny Black Bess



I treat horses good and I'm friendly to strangers

I ride and your running makes my guns talk the best

And the rangers and deputies

are hired by the rich man

To catch me and hang me, my shining Black Bess



Yes, they'll catch me napping one day

and they'll kill me

And then I'll be gone but that won't be my end

For my guns and my saddle will always be filled

By unwelcome travellers and other brave men



And they'll take the money and spread it out equal

Just like the Bible and the prophets suggest

But the men that go riding to help these poor workers

The rich will cut down like an unwelcome guest



WORDS: Woody Guthrie 1940 - MUSIC: Billy Bragg