| From a hip saloon
|
| In the Horse and Groom
|
| Cowboy rides alone now
|
| Whistling different tune
|
| Cause it’s time to lose the whiskey
|
| To step down off that stool
|
| The stallion riding, pistol hiding
|
| Sentimental fool
|
| I won’t ride into the sunset
|
| Behind me, only grief
|
| I won’t say that I don’t love her
|
| With a toothpick in my teeth
|
| I rode into this one-horse town
|
| When the horse had just three legs
|
| And now they’re trying to rid this place
|
| Of the lowlifes and the dregs
|
| Dig that ground, and six feet down
|
| For everyone to see
|
| The saddle of that trusty steed
|
| And me
|
| This arthritic pain
|
| In the pouring rain
|
| Whilst inside on the jukebox
|
| Tammy sings again
|
| The next time that you see these boots
|
| They’ll not be on my feet
|
| They’ll be hanging from the slow coach
|
| To the local cemetery
|
| A true cowboy will lay his hat
|
| Which way the bottles spin
|
| Wake up next to doused-out fire
|
| With bean juice down his chin
|
| I rode into this one-horse town
|
| When the horse had just three legs
|
| And now they’re trying to rid this place
|
| Of the lowlifes and the dregs
|
| Dig that ground, and six feet down
|
| For everyone to see
|
| The saddle of that trusty steed
|
| And me
|
| From a hip saloon
|
| In the Horse and Groom
|
| Difficult to believe now
|
| He was a cowboy in his day… |