| It happened rather suddenly that the Preacher came to town
|
| With stories from the Testaments of men of great reknown
|
| With his box of patent medicines he swore to cure all ills
|
| From the lameness in the horses, to the children’s colds and chills
|
| And he had along his Indian wife and a country music band
|
| Who sang of peace and brotherhood beside the Rio Grande
|
| Now the Preacher quickly gathered sick and poor from miles around
|
| Who came to him for comfort and to hear his country sound
|
| But the mayor thought he was trouble when he spoke against the law
|
| And he saw the growing power of the crowds that he could draw
|
| And he worried when the Preacher bought himself a plot of land
|
| To settle with his family beside the Rio Grande
|
| The saloon was pretty crowded and the stakes was a-running high
|
| And the girls sang sentimental songs that made us cowboys cry
|
| We began to criticise the Preacher marrying a squaw
|
| And how could he associate with cripples, drunks and whores
|
| And in a crazy fit the Preacher scattered chips and winning hands
|
| And condemned it as a den of vice beside the Rio Grande
|
| Now the boys were drunk and rowdy, and mostly pretty mean
|
| And we dragged him to the sidewalk and whipped his shoulders clean
|
| We said he was responsible for bringing on the drought
|
| That had burned off all the spring grass and had wiped the young herd out
|
| The sheriff would not get involved, the law could take no hand
|
| The Preacher had not harmed a soul
|
| We pegged him on the hillside alongside two Apache braves
|
| Who’d been given picks and shovels and been made to dig their graves
|
| And when he asked for water stood and pissed around his feet
|
| While his tongue swelled up and blackened in the burning desert heat
|
| And someone said we ought to mark the Preacher with a brand
|
| To show that he did not belong beside the Rio Grande
|
| Then the sky began to darken and a breeze whipped up the dust
|
| And some of us were frightened while others swore and cursed
|
| And the Preacher said a few words with his final dying breath
|
| About forgiving us for what we had done to bring about his death
|
| And as the night began to fall we covered him with sand
|
| And left his weary bones to bleach |