The Confession of an Outlaw – April 15, 1926

A crow sat on an old elm tree, and he was black as black could be I told him it was my belief that he was just an outlawed thief. “O yes, I am a thief.” Said he, “but there are bigger thieves than me; its true, I eat a little corn, and chickens too just newly born; and all the farmers plainly know that I am just a robber crow. Old farmer Jones will sweat and toil to dig his harvest from the soil, and then will open wide his heart and give away the larger part; he’ll grab his gun and waste a day to drive a thieving crow away, while robbers in the market place will boldy meet him face to face, and strip him of his hard earned wealth; although they do it quite by stealth; they’ll grab his hand and pat his back, and show him how to hold the sack so he can catch a measly snipe; all that is left from what they swipe. I’m just a crow; and when I steal, I do not try to make folks feel that I deserve an honest place among the honest human race; what grub I need, I boldly take; and I despise a pious fake who hides behind a crooked law, the steal which fills his greedy maw. I’m just a crow; and when I eat, I know that I will have to meet the danger of a trap or gun, or poison which I may not shun; while farmers freely give two thirds of all they raise to those sleek birds, the middlemen who buy and sell” The crow was silent for a spell, then farmer Jones came into view and blacky winked at me and flew; and as he went, these words he spoke, “Go tell old farmer Jones the joke.”
– A.M. Kinney