Billy The Kid

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 crying and a hearse a-rolling slow
I guess the devil’s passed this way again
There’s a lathered sorrel stallion running through the Joshua trees
And a young man in the saddle with his coat tails in the breeze
He’s got a six gun on his right hip and a rifle at his knees
And he’s dealing in a game that he can’t win
Poor Billy Bonney, you’re only 21
Pat Garrett’s got your name on every bullet in his gun
Every notch you carve on your six gun
Has a bloody tale to tell
You’re a mile ahead of Garrett and a step outside of Hell
Those fancy clothes you’re wearing and the women in your bed
Can’t take away the traces of the men that you’ve left dead
As you ride across the badlands with a price upon your head
And now the Wheel of Fortune starts to turn
Your reputation’s grown until it’s the biggest in the land
And there ain’t a lot of people left who want to call your hand
And I guess you’ll go down shooting and like all branded men
When you shake hands with the devil you get burned