Here are some things that I am teaching my son when he is at his most impressionable:
It’s okay to get drunk, as long as you spend your own money.
If you’re lucky you’ll grow up to be a moonshiner, an outlaw or a hobo.
Church is where you go to meet women.
It’s okay to steal as long as you help the poor.
If your woman is slowing you down, shoot her.
If your wife is a nag, pitch her in the river.
Tu-rum tu-rum fiddley diddley diddy dum.
Landlords are the worst.
If it’s cold and snowy, find yourself a nice warm box car.
Loving a pretty woman almost always ends badly.
Ten shillings will get you a gallon of moonshine.
Two pistols are always better than one.
You can fit ten million hogs, six million dogs and seven million barrels of porter in the hold of a ship.
There are A LOT of things you can do with a drunken sailor, (although if you slow the tempo and sing more softly, there are a lot of things that you can do with a sleepy baby.)
It’s better to go to the gallows than admit that you’re sleeping with your best friend’s woman.
Love burns, like a ring of fire.
If you don’t have enough money to cover your tab, then you better have friends to fight for you.
Whiskey will get you through times with no women, better than women will get you through times with no whiskey.
Never assume that the corpse at the wake is dead.
There are no policemen in heaven.
If you want to make friends, all you need is a well rosined bow.
If your mama tells you not to play with guns, don’t go off to Reno and shoot a man just to watch him die.
War isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but the farmers’ daughters are okay.
If it wasn’t for the weavers we’d all be neekid.
When you die, a tombstone isn’t as good as a couple of jugs of whiskey.
Behind every outlaw there is a loving mother.
So, anyone know any good lull-a-byes, before I turn Ragnarson into a woman hating alcoholic, living on the wrong side of the law and sleeping in box cars?