The legend lives on through the grapevine on down
'Bout the saga of Edmund and Gerald
At the time it was told, typed in black letters bold
On a page of the Omaha Herald

Gerald Fox, was a guard, where you had to be hard
At a maximum security prison
Edmund Jones faced his hell in a solitaire cell
Murder one, up for life, court's decision

In the year, "Thirty Four," penal conditions were poor
At Nebraska's grey house of correction
Had no conjugals then, and though men were still men
They would strive to seek out male affection

One night as Guard Fox was rechecking locks
Convict Jones smiled and started conversing
He said, "Hi there, Gerald..You're handsome as hell."
Briskly, Fox walked away, sharply cursing

But, as hourglass sand falls and piles up around
Fate can cause the unlikely to happen
A bond with gay tones, grew between Fox and Jones
And they soon shared a bunk, with no nappin'

Meets were discreet, on guard Gerald Fox's beat
At the rear of Jones cell, quite secluded
If others were near, they'd whisper close ear
And detection was always eluded

Hot to trot and date, Oft times they'd meet late,
Brief encounters, expressed with high passion
Fun in underwear would keep Fox unaware
Of a plan to escape, Jones was hatchin'

Yes, Old Ed had a plan, quite well calculated and,
It required that he be real patient
So, like ice, he was cool, good behaviour the rule
All except for their twosome relations

Then, soon came a night when the time was just right
Most prisoners at church service, Sunday
Fox sneaked in the cell, Jones performed very well
Cause' he knew he'd be gone sun up, Monday

They sucked reefer puffs. Edmund said,"wear your cuffs,
The binding makes passion grow bigger.."
Reluctant, at first, but resistance dispersed
When Jones added, "I'll be Roy...and you're Trigger.."

By his toilet hole, Jones grabbed a soft roll
Shoved it in Gerald's mouth hard, the whole thing
With eyes all bugged out, Fox strains, but no shout
Edmund walked from the cell in guards clothing

At shift changing time, he clocked out a chime
Strolled down to employee car parking
And as security, handed him the car key
He saw spot four, section eight, on the marking

After six months of free, Jones was bored stiff and he
Had enough whiskey, women, and kissing
He got in bar fights and spent long sleepless nights
So, it seemed to him something was missing

Then, he cracked a slow grin, went and turned himself in
As he was shackled and led, double barreled
He said, "I tried all the rest, now, I know when it's best..
It's when The Sex of Edmund Fits Gerald.."

The legend lives on, from that cell, though they're gone
Prisoner's swear that they've heard "Gotcha!..do me!"
Ghostly spirits, they've said, are of old Gerald and Ed
When two males and their members get girly