Here you go. As Kendall says the song was written by David Dodson. Charlie has made what he calls "Minor adaptations" I believe so he could fit it to his banjo style. He plays it on a five string banjo in G.
I WAS RIGHT, I WAS WRONGG D GThe back room was full of cigar smoking gents,
When first I saw Portland I questioned my eyes
C G D D7
I was awed by the lights and a-mazed at the size,
G G7 C
Then a feeling of dread dropped out of the blue,
G C G D D7
As it often does when I see something new;
G D G
I was quite overcome with sus-picion and fear,
C G D D7
So I stopped at a pub and I asked for a beer,
G G7 C
I must have been mad to go in there alone,
G C G C G C D7
I was up to no good and I should have gone home.
D7 G D G
I was right, I was wrong all a-long,
C G D
I was right, I was wrong all a-long;
G G7 C
I was wrong all a-long, and I knew I was wrong,
G D7 G
I was right, I was wrong all a-long.
And against my best judgment it's back there I went;
They offered me whiskey which I never touch,
And I frequently told them "Don't pour me too much."
It was not what I wanted and not what I planned,
But the next thing you know, there were cards in my hand;
And like many a time, though I 've often resolved
To never play cards when there's money involved...
Well, first I lost silver and then I lost gold,
And then I lost consciousness so I was told;
And when I awoke things had gone quite amiss,
I always had known it would end up like this;
There was blood and a body and bottles galore,
Lying right next to me there on the floor;
I said, "Constable, please, I'm an innocent man!"
As he pulled the revolver from out of me hand...
The judge banged his gavel and asked, "What's your plea?"
I said, "Someone killed him but surely not me."
There was no way in hell, I was out like a light,
Though I talk in my sleep, I doubt I could fight;
The jurors left the court room at the drop of a hat,
They returned with their verdict in ten minutes flat;
I was sentenced to hang by this jury of peers,
And so I've been dead for a good hundred years...
Will virtue bear fruit? You can never be sure,
Even if watered and plied with manure;
You've no hope to harvest the things that you plant,
But keep right on trying, and prove that you can't;
It's a minimal effort you need to exert,
Knowing that soon you'll be covered in dirt;
Be certain of failure and lose every fight,
And some day like me you'll be proud you was right...