He laid face down In the desert sand Clutching a sixgun In his hand And me & Maria went to watch him die. Suddenly the raised and said: Help me now, or I shoot you dead!. - I got an arrow in my back And it aches as hell!! So we jumped on down in the yellow sand Started helping this gunfighting man He was six feet tall`n`four feet wide And the wagon tipped from side to side Driving into the red, red sun Poor mule he could hardly run I turned my head to Maria And she turned her head to mine: And we knew... What he was going to do He was going to shoo-oo-oy His whole way through And his name was on the pistol - And he was son of a gun!! As we went driving into town We saw these posters all around There was a big reward upon his head 'Cause the Marshall wanted to see him dead... As we talked about this gunfighting man We saw the steel in his hand: Now folks I want to see you run! To the rhythm of my gun!! And we knew... Well I was saved & I was glad Thanks to my old stetson hat® It went through the top Only leaving a spot It was fabricated by an Indian bud Who did not now that he was hot Hanging on the posters everywhere... So I took one step back And tipped my hat And looked him in his eyes Aom sh** he was telling me the Dirtiest lies I had no time to get away I was trapped in the USA C`mon Maria, let`s get out of his war... And we knew... And we knew... Dow! Flam bam! Pow! Bow!