Billy The Kid

I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid 
I'll sing of the desperate deeds that he did 
Out in New Mexico long time ago 
When a man's only chance was his own forty-four 

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 twelve years, he killed his first man 

Fair Mexican maidens play guitars and sing 
A song about Billy, their boy bandit king 
Who ere his young man-hood had reached its sad end 
Had a notch on his pistol for twenty-one men 

'Twas on the same night, when poor Billy died 
He said to his friends, 'I am not satisfied 
Twenty-one men I have put bullets through 
Sheriff Pat Garrett must make twenty-two' 

Now this is how Billy the Kid met his fate 
The bright moon was shining, the hour was late 
Shot down by Pat Garrett, who once was his friend 
The young outlaw's life had now come to its end 

There's many a man with a face fine and 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