The thread Favorite Badman Ballads is long, so here is part II. Part I is Here
The following is copied from the Dallas Dispatch, May 24, 1934.

LYR ADD: THE STORY OF BONNIE AND CLYDE
by Bonnie Parker, 1934

You've read the story of Jessee James--
Of how he lived and died;
If you're still in need
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 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 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 friend
They just wipe their slate clean
And hang 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 times
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 joing 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 that they're too smart 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.

Someday they'll go down together;
They'll bury them side by side;
To few it'll be grief--
To the law a relief--
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

In an editorial entitled "The Trail's End," Thursday, May 24, 1934, The Dallas Dispatch wrote: "The Tale is ended. The story is told."
The dark days of the Great Depression, with hoboes crossing the land, and many people barely subsisting, there were many among the dispossessed who secretly wished Godspeed and gave a quiet toast to Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow.
The DT has two ballads about Bonnie and Clyde, one anon., the other by Merle Haggard and Bonnie Owens. Bonnie Parker's poem, written shortly before she was machine-gunned along with Clyde, deserves to be printed with them. @outlaw