Boots and Stetson and six guns and the lilies grow high
They grow for a man with a gunslingin' hand who before his time must die
They grow in the trail he has traveled a trail well spattered with lead
They weep for the graves of the many men they weep for the men now dead
He rides along lonely no friends but only the lilies growin' high
All men seem to fear him not one will go near him and he knows the reason why
His name and fame spread before him like a carpet of death and he knows
One day he'll be slow on the draw and then for him a lily will grow
A woman may love him though she knows soon above him the lilies growin' high
Then like the lily she'll bow down her head bow down her poor head and cry
On some boothill they will lay him and a headboard will sway in the wind
The lily will nod and gently weep for another gunman's end
Boots and Stetson and six guns and the lilies grow high
Boots and Stetson and six guns and the lilies grow high