The Lost Dogs - Wicked Guns | Текст песни

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• The Lost Dogs
• Wicked Guns

Dave Tutt fought for Dixie pride
Wild Bill was Union loyal
They fancied one same woman
Bad blood began to boil
Tutt stole Hickock’s pocket watch
Fool hardy, whiskey bold
Tempers flared, pistols fired
Dave Tutt laid still and cold

Them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew
Not just one six shooter
But two
His hands were quick, son
His aim was true
Yeah, them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew

Bill Mulvey was a reckless lout
A killer from Missouri
Aimed his rifle at Wild Bill
Then spun ‘round in a hurry
When Wild Bill yelled, “Don’t shoot, he’s drunk!”
To no one anywhere
Mulvey caught Bill Hickock’s bullet in his temple
And died there

Them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew
Not just one six shooter
But two
His hands were quick, son
His aim was true
Yeah, them were wicked guns
Bill Hickock drew…

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