BILLY THE KID
by Chris LeDoux
[Am]In the southern part of Texas, east and [G]west of El Paso
Where the mighty Franklin Mountains guard the [Am]trail to Mexico.
There’s a new made widow cryin’ and a [G]hurse a-rollin’ slow,
And I [Em]guess that Devil’s passed this way a[Am]gain.
[Am]There’s a lathered sorrel stallion runnin’ [G]through the Joshua Trees,
A young man in the saddle with his [Am]coat tails in the breeze.
Got a six gun on his right hip and a [G]rifle at his knee,
And he’s [Em]dealin’ in a game that he can’t [Am]win.
[Am]Poor Billy Bonney, you’re [G]only twenty-one,
Pat Garrett’s got your name on every [Am]bullet in his gun.
Each notch you carved on your six-gun’s got a [G]bloody tale to tell
Well, you’re a mile ahead of Garrett and a [Em]step outside of [Am]hell.
[Am]Them fancy clothes you’re wearin’ and the [G]women in your bed,
Can’t take away the faces of the [Am]men that you left dead.
As you ride across the badlands with a [G]price upon your head,
[Em]Now that wheel or fortune starts to [Am]turn.
[Am]Your reputation’s grown till it’s the [G]biggest in the land,
And there ain’t a lot of people left who [Am]wanna call your hand.
And I guess you’ll go down shootin’ just [G]like all brand of men,
And when you [Em]shake hands with the Devil you get [Am]burned.
CHORUS x 2