Eight years after I mentioned "Frank James," the lyrics are still not available online. Nor is the tune.

Here are the words, from Library of Congress Folk Music of the United States, Anglo-American Songs and Ballads, Album 14: It was sung by L. D. Smith at Swannanoa, N.C., in 1946:

                  FRANK JAMES, THE ROVING GAMBLER

I was raised up in Louisville, a town you all know well,
Raised up by honest parents, to you the truth I'll tell.
Raised up by honest parents most kind and tenderly,
Until I came a drinking man at the age of twenty-three.

'S I used to be a poor boy, and I worked upon the square,
I learned to pocket money, and I did not take it fair.
'S I worked out day by day, by night I'd rob and steal,
So when I'd make a great big haul, how happy I would feel.

'S I used to ride a big bay horrse and drive the buggy fine,
'S I courted a lady and I often called her mine.
'S I courted her for beauty and to me love was great,
For when she saw me coming, she'd meet me at the gate.

One night when I lay sleeping, I dreamed a frightful dream.
'S I dreamed I was in Asheville on some clear purple stream.
My friends had all forsaken me, no one to go my bail,
As I woke up broken-hearted in Hawthorne's county jail.

Around came the jailer about ten o'clock,
The keys in his hands, he pressed them to the lock.
"Cheer up, cheer up, my prisoner," I thought I heard the old boss say.
"They'll end you 'round the mountain one 'leven long years to stay."

Then around came my sweetheart about eleven o'clock.
The novel in her hand, she pressed it to the lock.
"Cheer up, cheer up, my Frankie," I thought I heard the old boss say.
"They'll send you 'round the mountain,
                               some 'leven long years to stay."

Then around came my mother about twelve o'clock.
With a bible in her hand, she pressed it to the lock.
Says, "Turn to the 25th chapter of Matthew,
                                  go read both night and day.
Remember your old mother, and don't forget to pray."

They put me on a northbound train bound for the Frankfort town.
'S every station I passed through, the people would seem to say,
"Yander goes Frank James the burglar for some big crime or other,
He's bound for the Frankfort jail."

This owes as much to "The Bravest Cowboy" as it does to "The Boston Burglar." There's also new material. "Purple" obviously rationalizes the unfamiliar "purling."

The words are occasionally incoherent. I haven't found a "Hawthorne" in Missouri, North Carolina, or Missouri.

The mother of Frank and Jesse James moved to Missouri from Kentucky, but otherwise the real Frank (1843-1915) had no connection with either Kentucky or North Carolina. He spent a year in prison, in Missouri, in 1882-83, then went straight. Frank James was not especially known as a gambler, and the song may refer to an entirely different, or fantasized, Frank James.