I've got no use for the women
|
A true one may seldom be found
|
They'll use a man for his money
|
When it's gone they'll turn him down
|
They're all alike at the bottom
|
Selfish and grasping for all
|
They'll stay by a man when he's winning
|
And laugh in his face when he falls
|
|
My pal was an honest young puncher
|
Honest and upright and true
|
Till he turned to a gun shooting gambler
|
On account of a girl named Lou
|
They fell in with evil companions
|
The kind that are better off dead
|
When a gambler insulted her picture
|
He filled him full of lead
|
|
All through the long night they trailed him
|
Through mesquite and thick chaparral
|
I couldn't help think of that woman
|
As I saw him pitch and fall
|
If she'd been the pal that she should have
|
He might have been raising a son
|
Instead of out there on the prairie
|
To die by a Ranger's gun
|
|
Death's sharp sting did not trouble
|
His chances for life were too slim
|
Where they were putting his body
|
Was all that worried him
|
He lifted his head on his elbow
|
The blood from his wound flowed red
|
He gazed at his friends gathered round him
|
He looked up at them and he said
|
|
Bury me out on the prairie
|
Where the coyotes can howl o'er my grave
|
Bury me out on the prairie
|
But from them, my bones please save
|
Wrap me up in a blanket
|
Bury me deep in the ground
|
Cover me over with boulders
|
Of granite, big and brown
|
|
We buried him out on the prairie
|
Where the coyotes can howl o'er his grave
|
His soul is now a-resting
|
From the unkind cut she gave
|
And many another young puncher
|
As he rides past the pile of stones
|
Recalls some similar woman
|
And thinks of his mouldering bones
|
|
-----------------
|
I've Got No Use For The Women
|
| Marty Robbins |
