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