Son of a Gun - D-A-D

He laid face down

In the desert sand

Clutching a sixgun

In his hand

And me and Maria went to watch him die

Suddenly the raised and said

Help me now, or I shoot you dead

I got an arrow in my back

And it aches as hell

So we jumped on down in the yellow sand

Started helping this gunfighting man

He was sixfeet tall’n’four feet wide

And the wagon tipped from side to side

Driving into the red, red sun

Poor mule he could hardly run

I turned my head to Mary

And she turned her head to mine

And we knew

What he was going to do

He was going to shoo-ooh

His whole way through

And his name was on the pistol

And he was son of a gun

As we went driving into town

We saw these posters all around

There was a big reward upon his head

'Cause the Marshall wanted to see him dead

As we talked about this gunfighting man

We saw the steel in his hand

Now folks I want to see you run

To the rhythm of my gun

And we knew

What he was going to do

He was going to shoo-ooh

His whole way through

And his name was on the pistol

And he was son of a gun

Well, I was saved and I was glad

Thanks to my old Stetson hat

It went through the top

Only leaving a spot

It was fabricated by an Indian bud

Who did not now that he was hot

Hanging on the posters everywhere

Well, I took one step back

And tipped my hat

And looked him in his eyes

Oh shit, he was telling me the dirtiest lies

I had no time to get away

I was trapped in the USA

C’mon Mary, let’s get out of his war

And we knew

What he was going to do

He was going to shoo-ooh

His whole way through

And his name was on the pistol…

And we knew

What he was going to do

He was going to shoo-ooh

His whole way through

And his name was on the pistol

And he was son of a gun