Billy the Kid

I’ll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid
I’ll sing of the desperate deeds that he did
Way out in New Mexico long, long ago
When a man’s only friend was a 44

When Billy the Kid was a very young lad
In old Silver City he went to the bed
Way out in the West with his gun in his hand
At the age of twelve years he killed his first man

Young Mexican maidens play guitars and sing
Songs about Billy, their boy bandit king
How there’s a young man who had reached his sad end
Had a notch on his pistol for twenty-one men

It was on the same night when poor Billy died
He said to his friends: I’m not satisfied
There are twenty-one men I have put bullets
Sheriff Pat Garrettmust take twenty-two

Now this is how Billy the Kid met his fate
The bright moon was shining, the hour was late
Shot down by Pat Garrett who once was his friend
The young outlaw’s life had now reached its sad end

Now there’s many a lad with a face fine and fair
Who starts out in life with a chance to be square
But just like poor Billy, they wander astray
They lose their life in the very same way