There was a lonesome cowboy who trusted in his gun.
Though he drank straight whiskey he was faster than anyone
if anyone tried to pull a gun.
Townsfolk knew his name before he rode their town
they say he shot four cowboys down.
Than in Colorado beyond Boulder’s brush
two bandits died before their eyes could shut.
No one ever ever rode beside that lonesome cowboy.
No one ever got close enough to pierce his heart of stone,
their hands were too slow to match his hand.
The women all adored him and the gambler hid his fear
whenever Ol’ Lefty would appear.
He rarely bet on women they weren’t the trustin’ kind
they always had a staleness in their eyes.
A staleness in her eyes says she is alone with a husband as her own.
Just hand roll a cigarette.
No one ever ever rode beside that lonesome cowboy,
and no girl ever got close enough to pierce his heart of stone.
Their hands were too slow to catch his hand.