| 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 |