He was 9 years old when his folks left home,
On a wagon headdin west.
His mom and dad knew hed grow up bad,
By the mark of the Devil on his chest.
Well at 17 he had turned up mean.
He had already made his bid.
He had a name in this fast-gun game.
And they called him the Devil Kid.
Now the kids name grew and his aim did too,
As an old ghost town appeared.
Sittin there in the marshals chair,
Was the one they call Greybeard.
Kid youd better quit while the quittins good,
Cause theres always one whos bigger.
Therell be one guy with a faster eye,
Whos lightning on the trigger.
Let me tell you son of a real fast gun,
That every outlaw feared.
He made his name in this killing game,
Hes the one they call Greybeard.
He had a drawin hand like no other man,
It was faster that the eye.
And there were always plenty of kids around 20,
Just couldnt wait to die.
(He was a fast gun,
Lookin to make a name.
_______ was his virtue,
Killin was a game.)
So the Kid said Tell me, where is this man,
Who never feared a gun?
Greybeard raised his head and said,
Youre lookin at him son.
The Kid tried staring Greybeard down,
With eyes like ace-up dice,
And Greybeards frown turned upside down,
To a smile as cold as ice.
So the Devil Kid reached for his gun,
With a draw as fast as light.
But he lost the game to a shot that came,
From somewhere out of sight.
And as the Kid went down and he hit the ground,
He thought hed lost his mind.
He heard Greybeard snicker, I was even quicker,
Before I went stone blind.
(Fast gun,
Lookin to make a name.
_______ was his virtue,
Killed at his game.)