(Jeff Bates/Byron Hill)

My in-laws are outlaws
So I stay on my toes
'Cause anything can happen

Yeah, anything could go
I have to lock up my ol' tool box
And hide all my fishin' gear
'Cause my in-laws are outlaws
But they ain't wanted here

She may not be like Bonnie
ANd he ain't exactly Clyde
They don't carry tommy-guns
But they tote big pocket knives
I don't turn my back for nothin'
Though there's nothin' for me to fear
My in-laws are outlaws
But they ain't wanted here

I call 'em Mom and Dad
And they both call me son
I'd like to call 'em lots of things
But I just bite my tongue
We say we love each other
But Lord knows we ain't sincere
'Cause my in-laws are outlaws
But they ain't wanted here

'Cause he drinks all my whiskey
And she drinks all the wine
They tell us how to raise our kids
While theirs are doing time
They've worn out their welcome
And my favorite easy chair
My in-laws are outlaws
But they ain't wanted here

Yeah, I bet no one would miss 'em
If they just happened to disappear
My in-laws are outlaws
But they ain't wanted here
Yeah, my in-laws are outlaws
But they ain't wanted here