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 chance was his own 44.
When Billy the Kid was a very young lad
In old Silver City he went to the bad;
Way out in the West with a gun in his hand
At the age of 12 years he did kill his first man.
Fair Mexican maidens play guitars and sing
A song of El Chivato, their boy bandit king.
How ere his young manhood had reached its end
With a notch on his pistol for 21 men.
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'Twas on the same night that poor Billy died
He said to his friends: "I'm not satisfied.
There are 21 men I have put bullets through
And Sheriff Pat Garrett must make 22."
Now this is how Billy the Kid met his fate.
Bright moon was shining, the hour was late.
Cut down by Pat Garrett once his friend
The young outlaw's life come to its end.
There's many a young man with face fine & fair
Who starts out in life with a chance to be square
But just like poor Billy he wanders astray,
And loses his life in the very same way.
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