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Son of a Gun

He laid face down

In the desert sand

Clutching a sixgun

In his hand

And me & Maria went to watch him die.

Suddenly the raised and said:

Help me now, or I shoot you dead!.

- I got an arrow in my back

And it aches as hell!!So we jumped on down in the yellow sand

Started helping this gunfighting man

He was sixfeet tall'n'four feet wide

And the wagon tipped from side to side

Driving into the red, red sun

Poor mule he could hardly run

I turned my head to Maria

And she turned her head to mine:

And we knew...

What he was going to do

He was going to shoo-oo-oy

His whole way through

And his name was on the pistol

- And he was son of a gun!!As we went driving into town

We saw these posters all around

There was a big reward upon his head

- Coz' the marshall wanted to see

him dead...

As we talked about this gunfighting man

We saw the steel in his hand:

Now folks I want to see you run!

To the rythm of my gun!!

And we knew...Well I was saved & I was glad

Thanks to my old stetson hat®

It went through the top

Only leaving a spot

It was fabricated by an indian bud

Who did not now that he was hot

Hanging on the posters everywhere...So I took one step back

And tipped my hat

And looked him in his eyes

Aom shit he was telling me the

Dirtiest lies

I had no time to get away

I was trapped in the USA

C'mon Maria, let's get out of his war...And we knew...)(#$/#%&#?#%/!#

%#/(/%?#/#(/%#!

#%/)#/%!#(/!#%/And we knew...Dow! Flam bam! Pow! Bow!

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