| Listen up, brother | 
| Got a little rhyme for you | 
| But I gotta tell you | 
| I ain’t no durn singer | 
| I’m a gunslinger | 
| Who’s a better gunslinger? | 
| That’s a humdinger | 
| Blood blister on my one finger from triggers | 
| And I don’t hunt deer | 
| So chump, here’s something I’d like to advise | 
| Better run for your life if you’d like to survive in the frontier | 
| It’s like you drunk beer, brain ain’t configured | 
| A word to the wise and your mind will become clear | 
| Bright as the lights on the rides of a fun fair | 
| So come bring your Jesse James and Billy the Kid | 
| I’ll make a mess of their brains and fill 'em with lead | 
| And I will until every damn villain is dead | 
| Then I’m bringin' the sheriff a bag full of their heads | 
| Handlin' any man that is plannin' to stand in my path | 
| Because I’m heavy-handed with every bandit I wrangle with | 
| And we’re in a century that hasn’t any ambulances | 
| So best pack your best brandy and bandages | 
| When I’m rat-a-tat-tattin' on my gatling guns | 
| The blast attacks faster than my battlin' puns | 
| A LeMat in my one hand and another in my other | 
| So get runnin' for cover, you would you rather be buggered? | 
| Shots, I’m lickin' off like the sugar on my cherry strudel | 
| I’m quick on the draw, call me Mary Doodles | 
| I’m gettin' reward money to bury people | 
| And as a result, I never need to be very frugal | 
| 'Less you want your tooth pulled, pay the dentist | 
| I break rackets as if it’s an angry game of tennis | 
| Don’t hate the player, no, hate the business | 
| I make a livin' from wanted posters: Jay McGuiness | 
| Forget a hook | 
| I ain’t no durn singer | 
| Brother, look | 
| I’m just a gunslinger | 
| So forget a hook | 
| I ain’t no durn singer | 
| Brother, look | 
| I’m just gonna get some dynamite and then I’ll light my pipe | 
| And when the timing’s right, I’ll set the skies alight | 
| Kind of like Juarez calls for Silas Greaves | 
| To make you fall like a pile of leaves | 
| Shootin' line after line after line of thieves | 
| And I’ve touched more gold than a miner’s sleeves | 
| When I wield dual revolvers, you’ll feel the coldness | 
| Once in a blue moon, I’m using my holsters | 
| Shootin' my Colt, I’m too skilled to falter | 
| Is it any wonder saloons here are closed? | 
| When you bring a whole platoon filled with soldiers | 
| I barbecue fools, a new meal for vultures | 
| High noon, we’re overdue for elevenses | 
| I left the saloon, it was strewn with your severed limbs | 
| Bringin' just a shoe to a shootout | 
| To kick your booty so brutally, you’ll never get my boot out | 
| Forget a hook | 
| I ain’t no durn singer | 
| Brother, look | 
| I’m just a gunslinger | 
| So forget a hook | 
| I ain’t no durn singer | 
| Brother, look | 
| I’m just a gunslinger | 
| I’m just a mean-ass gunslinger | 
| And I guess that’s all I’ll ever be | 
| But lemme tell you | 
| That’s all I ever wanna be | 
| A mean-ass gunslinger, pardner | 
| Beg your pardon, ma’am |