Son Of A Gun

(album: Call Of The Wild - 1986)

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