Hombre

well a bad lookin' hombre rode up on me on the back of a coal black mare he squinted and spat adjusted his hat said we don't need your kind around here when i pulled back my cape he saw a pistol when the smoke cleared he lay dead in the sand pity the cowboy who draws on me i was born with a six gun in my hand that cowboy he ain't alone there's plenty more like him around buried in the boothills of this wide land by the man born with a sixgun in his hand if you find yourself up in the northwest between bismark, butte, and cheyenne remember the story 'bout the bad lookin' hombre and the man born with a sixgun in his hand