Charley Crockett — Ballad of A Lonesome Drifter
Album: A Dollar A DayAvg rating:
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Length: 2:50
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He doesn't say too much, and his throat is dry
What he wants is a bottle of rye
Born just to play a bad luck hand
This here's the tale of a Texican
As the night rolls in and the sun goes down
He'll find himself in a different town
All the good-time women, prophets, drunks, and thieves
Will soon find out what the Texican means
Mexican boots and a Stetson hat
Gun is slung low with the trigger tied back
These are the marks of a batten man
The kind they call the Texican
Jingle and spurs on a hardwood floor
A poker game just made for four
But if you sit in for a card or two
You'll wind up dead before you're through
Border wind
Border wind
Where do you go?
Cover my trail tonight
What he wants is a bottle of rye
Born just to play a bad luck hand
This here's the tale of a Texican
As the night rolls in and the sun goes down
He'll find himself in a different town
All the good-time women, prophets, drunks, and thieves
Will soon find out what the Texican means
Mexican boots and a Stetson hat
Gun is slung low with the trigger tied back
These are the marks of a batten man
The kind they call the Texican
Jingle and spurs on a hardwood floor
A poker game just made for four
But if you sit in for a card or two
You'll wind up dead before you're through
Border wind
Border wind
Where do you go?
Cover my trail tonight
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