About love, about glory.
That's all bullshit.
Here goes my story.
Though my father was dead.
I was son of a gun.
Whoa-oa-oa, the Sad Cowboy Song.
Whoa-oa-oa, the Sad Cowboy Song.
She was a folk singer.
I gave her the ring.
She gave me the finger.
She treated me bad--she tickled my tummy.
But at least she done me.
Whoa-oa-oa, the Sad Cowboy Song.
Whoa-oa-oa, the Sad Cowboy Song.
He had too much grass.
To cover my ass.
My guitar ain't got strings.
My gun doesn't shoot.
And so do my boots.
Whoa-oa-oa, the Sad Cowboy Song.
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