(Jeff Bates/Byron Hill)



My in-laws are outlaws

So I stay on my toes

'Cause anything can happen

Yeah, anything could go

I have to lock up my ol' tool box

And hide all my fishin' gear

'Cause my in-laws are outlaws

But they ain't wanted here



She may not be like Bonnie

ANd he ain't exactly Clyde

They don't carry tommy-guns

But they tote big pocket knives

I don't turn my back for nothin'

Though there's nothin' for me to fear

My in-laws are outlaws

But they ain't wanted here



I call 'em Mom and Dad

And they both call me son

I'd like to call 'em lots of things

But I just bite my tongue

We say we love each other

But Lord knows we ain't sincere

'Cause my in-laws are outlaws

But they ain't wanted here



'Cause he drinks all my whiskey

And she drinks all the wine

They tell us how to raise our kids

While theirs are doing time

They've worn out their welcome

And my favorite easy chair

My in-laws are outlaws

But they ain't wanted here



Yeah, I bet no one would miss 'em

If they just happened to disappear

My in-laws are outlaws

But they ain't wanted here

Yeah, my in-laws are outlaws

But they ain't wanted here