Billy the Kid

I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid

I'll sing of the desperate deeds that he did

Way out in New Mexico, long long ago

When a man's only chance was his own 44

When Billy, the kid was a very young lad

In the old Silver City, he went to the bad

Way out in the West with a gun in his hand

At the age of twelve years, he first killed his man

Fair Mexican maidens play guitars and sing

A song about Billy, the boy bandit king

How ere his young manhood had reached its sad end

He'd a notch on his pistol for twenty-one men

'Twas on the same night when poor Billy died

He said to his friends, "I am not satisfied

There are twenty-one men I have put bullets through

And sheriff Pat Garrett must make twenty-two"

Now this is how Billy, the kid met his fate

The bright moon was shining, the hour was late

Shot down by Pat Garrett who once was his friend

The young outlaw's life had now come to its end

There's many a man with a face fine and fair

Who starts out in life with a chance to be square

But just like poor Billy, he wanders astray

And loses his life in the very same way