In the southern part of Texas, east and west of El Paso,
Where the mighty Franklin Mountains guard the trail to Mexico.
There’s a new made widow cryin’ and a hearse a-rollin’ slow,
And I guess that devil’s passed this way again.

There’s a lathered sorrel stallion runnin' through the Joshua trees,
A young man in the saddle with his coat tails in the breeze.
Got a six gun on his right hip and a rifle at his knee,
And he’s dealin' in a game that he can’t win.

Chorus
Poor Billy Bonney, you’re only twenty-one,
Pat Garrett’s got your name on every bullet in his gun.
Each notch you carved on your six-gun’s got a bloody tale to tell,
You’re a mile ahead of Garrett and a step outside of hell.

Them fancy clothes you’re wearin' and the women in your bed,
Can’t take away the faces of the men that you left dead.
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
As you ride across the badland with a price upon your head,
Now that wheel of fortune starts to turn.

Your reputation’s grown till it’s the biggest in the land,
And there ain’t a lot of people left who’d wanna call your hand.
And I guess you go down shootin' just like all brand of men,
when you shake hands with the devil you get burned.

Chorus x2
Poor Billy Bonney, you’re only twenty-one,
Pat Garrett’s got your name on every bullet in his gun.
Each notch you carved on your six-gun’s got a bloody tale to tell,
You’re a mile ahead of Garrett and a step outside of hell.

Poor Billy Bonney, you’re only twenty-one,
Pat Garrett’s got your name on every bullet in his gun.
Each notch you carved on your six-gun’s got a bloody tale to tell,
You’re a mile ahead of Garrett and a step outside of hell.

add to
My Songs
Email
Print