Friday, April 11, 2014

FEATURE: Poetry Friday~ Bonnie Parker



Morning Swooners,

So i'm still celebrating Poetry Month and have decided to share with you another favorite poem of mine. Today we feature Bonnie Parker, of The Barrow Gang aka Bonnie and Clyde. Bonnie Parker wrote this poem while on a crime spree with Clyde Barrow in the early 1930's. This poem, to me, says so much about the person she was and the things she did. I hope it brings you the same feelings it has brought me each time I read it. 

The Story of Bonnie and Clyde

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 all 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 hand 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 time
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 tough 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;
And they’ll bury them side by side;
To few it’ll be grief
To the law a relief
But its death for Bonnie and Clyde.


--Bonnie Parker



6 comments:

  1. I will never get tired of Bonnie and Clyde! NEVER!

    Ivana @ BookishTeens

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    1. Agreed! I love this poem! Thanks for stopping by Ivana :)

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  2. ah, great post! its just one of those poems you never tire of i guess!

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    1. I know right! Thanks for stopping by Amy-Anne! :)

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  3. also YOU HAVE CAPTCHA ON YOUR BLOG COMMENTS! WHYYYYY!

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    1. What?! No way!!! I have to look into that. This whole time I thought mine didnt have it...grrrr

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I absolutely love comments so thank you for sharing the love :p