My father advised me when I was quite young
That freedom and law make a bad combination.
“These words you’ll remember when you’re old and gray,
And after I’ve left you to lay in my grave.”
But I was filled with rebellion and fell in with a band
Who felt money that’s earned ought to stay in the hand.
The Townsfolk laid claim and took my body from me.
They said “not giving to us, we call robbery.”
My father saw me all dressed in steel chains
In his voice there was sorrow and in his eyes there was pain
Saying, “Son, they have ruined you, I advised you before,
But now we are parting and shall meet now more.”
My time was well paid for at what I called a job
But every third dollar went to the mob.
And children went hungry and played in the street
As people built castles and lived by the sea.
So, my son I took aside while he was still young
And told him, “Freedom and law make a bad combination.”
“Learn to love freedom before you’re gone gray
Or the people will help you dig your own grave.”