"Wild Bill Jones" sometimes shares a verse or two with "William Cook" but that is a different song. Sharp collected a version (in the DT) and published it in "English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians," II, but the basic story is common enough, and I doubt an English origin. A modern version in the DT by the New Lost City Ramblers has added verses, including a line about a long-necked beer bottle (from the version of the Stanley Brothers?) among others; this is new material. The song is widespread in the South, from Virginia to Arkansas.

Here is another version from Randolph.

Lyr. Add: WILD BILL JONES 3

As I went walkin' down the road,
I met up with Wild Bill Jones,
He was walkin' an' talkin' to the gal I love,
An' I bid him to leave her alone.

He says my age it is of twenty-one,
Too old to be controlled,
I drawed my revolver from my side
An' I shattered that pore boy's soul.

He reeled, he rocked, he staggered,
He gave one dyin' groan,
He throwed his arms round my woman's neck
Sayin' baby, you're left all alone.

One dollar in my pocket,
My six-shooter in my hand,
With friends and relations all around me
We'll make old Wild Bill stand.

One dollar in my pocket,
A-layin' in this here jail,
I sure am sad an' lonesome,
Nobody to go my bail.

I wrote my mother a letter
To tell her I was in jail,
She wrote me back a answer
Sayin' son, I'll go your bail.

I got a letter from Luly,
An' this is the way it read:
Daddy, if you ever git in trouble,
Don't never hang down your head.

Come on all you wild cowboys,
Let's all get on a spree,
Today was the last of Wild Bill Jones,
An' tomorrow 'll be the last of me.

A western touch here. With music, sung by Mrs. Isabel Spradley, Van Buren, Arkansas, 1929. She learned the song from neighbors in the hills north of Van Buren.