| Gypsy’s dance around the campfire, shook their tambourines
|
| They were waiting for the dust of an outlaw, Sundown was his name
|
| As the midnight hour grew closer, and the sky begins to fall
|
| You can see his shadow by the light of the moon
|
| They had heard the gypsys call
|
| She had hair as black as darkness, eyes of emerald green
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| And her voice was soft and tender, ooh she could sing
|
| She will sing no more, or dance again or shake a tambourines
|
| They had taken her away, she was dead and gone
|
| And hear the gypsies sing
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Silver devils in his holsters, stars strapped to his heels
|
| There was fire in his eyes, they say that he was dressed to kill
|
| He had hands as fast as lightning, a heart as cold as steel
|
| He had come for the one that took her life
|
| Lying in Boothill
|
| Gypsy’s dance around the campfire, shook their tambourines
|
| They were waiting for the dust of an outlaw, Sundown was his name
|
| As the midnight hour grew closer, and the sky begins to fall
|
| You can see his shadow in the light of the moon
|
| They had heard the gypsys call
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown
|
| Ooh, ooh, hurry Sundown |