Oh, you thieving varmint.
You blew into town on the noon stage,
And don't think that I don't know
You're a woman with a past;
Back east, you scandalized the one-room schoolroom
When you wouldn't recite "My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose"
And all that other rote sh*t they tried to cram down your throat.
Oh don't think that I don't know
That there's some poor dumb sodbuster someplace
Wondering where his little woman went.
Don't think that I don't know
That dance-hall girls from Topeka to Santa Fe
Keep your picture tucked in their garters.
I'm well aware
That you keep a few extra aces
Tucked up your sleeve,
And a derringer in your boot.
But what I can't understand
Is why, when I look at anything from Boot Hill to Old Blind Bob
I see your smile instead.
My heart was right here a minute ago
Until I bumped into you,
And now it's scarcer than those quarter horses from the Circle Bar Tee.
Oh, you beautiful blond-haired