Well a bad lookin' hombre rode up on me on the back of a coal black mare
He squinted and spat
Adjusted his hat
Said we don't need your kind around here
When i pulled back my cape he saw a pistol
when the smoke cleared he lay dead in the sand
pity the cowboy who draws on me
I was born with a six gun in my hand
That cowboy he ain't alone
There's plenty more like him around
Buried in the boothills of this wide land
By the man born with a sixgun in his hand
If you find yourself up in the northwest
Between bismark, butte, and cheyenne
Remember the story 'bout the bad lookin' hombre
And the man born with a sixgun in his hand