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Public Enemy Number One:
He’s got a switch-blade knife and a loaded gun. He runs with a gang, he’s a seasoned crook. He’s broken every rule in the book, He’s dodgin’ the law and he’s dodgin’ the elf Who’s forevermore plaguein’ him (it's really himself), Maybe it’s licker, or goof-balls, or dope, But whatever it is, it’s destroying his hope. He’s wasting his life and having no fun. Public Enemy Number One? No. Not he.
Public Enemy Number One: Speedin’ and Draggin’ his favorite fun. He gets half-drunk for a bigger kick; He’s pathetically young and he’s mighty sick. Inside he’s a baby crying for love But he acts like a "big shot’’ with connections above. He won’t even listen when the warnings are said And he won’t stop his speedin’ till someone is dead. Public Enemy Number One? No. Not he.
Public Enemy Number One? It’s me! I’m Public Enemy Number One. I don’t speak out when a wrong is done, I don’t take sides till a side has won, I always quit 'fore the race is run, When they’re taking donations, I don't give none. When there’s a fracas. I’m too scaired to fight, I just straddle a fence and hold on tight, _ I’ve got no religion ’cept the one they're preachin’ An’ I’ve got no opinion ’cept the ones they’re teachin’; I’m peaceful, and quiet, and a real good guy, No politickin’ rebel or fanatic am I. But you know how I feel, when it’s said an’ done? Like a triflin’, no-a-count Son-of-a-gun 1 Public Enemy Number One.
—Helen M. Kilby. 1963
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