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