transcribed by Diron Ahlquist PLAY IN ¾ TIME WITH EITHER A NICE, STEADY "PLUCK, STRUM, STRUM" PATTERN OR A FREE STRUM. [C]Year on the tombstone reads [G]eighteen-o-[Am]five, [F]Says that he [G]died by the [C]gun. On a cool purple evenin’ in [G]New Mexi[Am]co, A [F]prairie of [G]shadows and [C]stone. With the [Am]coyotes howl and the [G]lonesome wind, His [F]mournful story is [C]told. He [Am]longs to ride and be [G]free again, Not [F]owin’ the Devil his [G]soul. And the legend grows [C]old. CHORUS So [F]let’s sing a [G]song for him [C]now boys, As he [F]lays in his [G]stony [C]grave. Let’s [F]drink one more [G]round to our [C]friend in the [F]ground. The [C]gunfighter’s gone but the [G]legend re[C]mains. [C]Dry tumbleweeds roll [G]over his [Am]grave, [F]Chased by the [G]hot desert [C]wind. The afternoon trembles [G]under the [C]sun, As the [F]wild [G]dust devils [C]spin. Then [Am]twilight falls [G]once again, [F]Moonlight’s silver and [C]gold. The [Am]desert cools with the [G]fadin’ sun, A[F]nother day’s grown [G]cold. And the legend grows [C]old. CHORUS x 2 The [C]gunfighter’s gone but the [Em]legend re[Am]mains.