Seems like ten years ago
Though today my mind is slow
Me and Mickey Craig
Were running west from Idaho

Robbed a bank to get some bread
Seems like fifteen men lay dead
In a path that led us straight
To Santa Rosa

Now and then ol' Mick'd say
Boy, at home you should of stayed
Than to follow me and learn the life
Of looking back

But he'd spit and slap his side
Just to see if he's alive
Then he'd sing his banjo song
Of Santa Rosa

He said, whoa
Singing, oh, Santa Rosa
Whoa, high and low

Then one day, sang ol' Craig
I'll be free to go my way
And be standing by the bay
At Santa Rosa
Now one time late at night
Mickey lit no fire light
'Cause he feared the posse close behind
Might flush us out

But he picked a bit 'fore sleep
To the tune of Cripple Creek
He was murdered by a man
From Santa Rosa, they shot him

He said, whoa
Singing, oh, Santa Rosa
Whoa, high and low

'Til I come once again
With my banjo pickin' friend
We'll be, oh, high and low
In Santa Rosa