| I saw her turn her head
|
| In a drop-dead gaze
|
| She was peeking out over the top
|
| Of those wire-rim shades
|
| Now it wasn’t my charm
|
| And it wasn’t my grin
|
| That had that little secretary
|
| Dialed right in
|
| She wasn’t looking at me, man
|
| She was looking at my feet
|
| It’s these twenty-two hundred
|
| And twenty-five dollar
|
| Pair o' handmade genuine fine
|
| Horned-back kicks
|
| With a seven-row stitch
|
| And a three dollar sidewalk shine
|
| Yeah they’re made to fit
|
| And they’re hard to find
|
| Make a pretty woman look down each time
|
| I got the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| Yeah, the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| They were made by a little man
|
| Down in El Paso
|
| I was passing though town
|
| Singing at the rodeo
|
| He said they cost a little more
|
| But for what it’s worth
|
| There ain’t another pair like them
|
| On God’s green earth
|
| Then I handed him my money
|
| And he sized me up
|
| It’s these twenty-two hundred
|
| And twenty-five dollar
|
| Pair o' handmade genuine fine
|
| Horned-back kicks
|
| With a seven-row stitch
|
| And a three dollar sidewalk shine
|
| Yeah they’re made to fit
|
| And they’re hard to find
|
| Make a pretty woman look down each time
|
| I got the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| Yeah, the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| I got the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| Yeah, the Baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| When I pull them on I start singing a song
|
| Make me want to tuck my britches leg’s inside them
|
| Let’s take a stroll
|
| It’s these twenty-two hundred
|
| And twenty-five dollar
|
| Pair o' handmade genuine fine
|
| Horned-back kicks
|
| With a seven-row stitch
|
| And a three dollar sidewalk shine
|
| Yeah they’re made to fit
|
| And they’re hard to find
|
| Make a pretty woman look down each time
|
| I got the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| Yeah, the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| They’re the baddest boots on the boulevard
|
| Look here girl
|
| Yeah, they’re bad alright |