The Widow Maker
I travel these deserted plains
with a price on my head.
My life has never been the same
since I shot that man dead.
Itís every man for himself
out here in the wild, opened west.
Every man with a gun on his hip
wants to put the other to the test.
Itís one thing to be fast
but your aim must be true.
If you donít possess both talents,
one shot could be the end for you.
Thatís why I ride this black horse.
For, there are men riding after me.
Donít mistake me for the outlaw
and donít dare call them a posse.
They are violent, blood-thirsty killers.
They are the ruthless ones.
Yet, theyíve met their match in me.
Iíve made their world come undone.
I rode into El Paso one day
on my trusty black steed.
I caught these five brute cowboys
in the middle of a horrible deed.
They were drunk and out of control,
ravaging a young woman out of her dress.
I tried to heroically stop them
which caused even more civil unrest.
They laughed at me at first.
They had never seen a Buffalo Soldier before.
They seemed to have forgotten
that I had fought in their bitter civil war.
They released the young woman
and one by one they came at me.
They fought as best as they could,
each one desiring to kill me.
I fell into blows with each one
and took each one down with my fists.
Then one from the ground drew his gun.
I drew mine and fired with a twist.
He fell dead to the ground
before he could get off his shot.
Thatís when I had to flee,
afraid that I would get caught.
Even though there were witnesses
to the violence that went down,
the law issued a wanted poster
and to jail I was bound.
Just because the man that I shot dead
had a young wife and a family,
they drew a likeness of me
and on my head, they put this bounty.
Three thousand American dollars Ė
some say four now, some say five.
Thatís how much I am worth,
captured dead, or brought in alive.
They call me the Widow Maker
because thatís what I made one manís wife.
I wish he had only thought of her
before he made me take his life.
It took one shot from my steel Colt,
one small, hot piece of lead.
One shot straight through the heart
and there he laid, cold and dead.
By trying to do the right thing,
Iíve become this Widow Maker, this wanted man.
Now I have only one reluctant choice.
Thatís to aimlessly wander this great land.
With these bullets wrapped around my waist
and this Colt strapped to my side,
from one dusty town to the next,
I look over my shoulder as onward, I ride.
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