| Lyrics: | I've Got No Use For The Women
Now, I've got no use for the women;
A true one can
seldom be found,
They use a man for his money,
When it's gone, they'll turn him
down.
They're all alike at the bottom,
Selfish and grasping for all.
They'll stay by
a man when he's winning
And laugh in his face at a fall.
My pal was an honest young
puncher;
Honest and upright and true.
But he turned to a hard-shooting gunman,
On
account of a girl named Lou.
He fell in with evil companions,
The kind that are better off
dead;
When a gambler insulted her picture,
He filled him full of lead.
All through
the long night they trailed him,
Through mesquite and thick chaparral.
And I couldn't help
think of that woman
As I saw him pitch and fall;
If she'd been the pal that she should
have,
He might have been raising a son,
Instead of out there on the prairie,
To die
by the ranger's gun.
Death's sharp sting did not trouble,
His chances for life were
too slim,
But where they were putting the body
Was all that worried him.
He lifted
his head on his elbow;
The blood from his wounds flowed red.
He gazed at his pals grouped
around him,
As he whispered to them and said:
"Oh bury me out on the
prairie,
Where the coyotes may howl o'er my grave.
Bury me out on the prairie,
But
from them my bones please save.
Wrap me up in my blankets,
And bury me deep in the
ground.
Cover me over with boulders
Of granite gray and round."
So we buried
him out on the prairie,
Where the coyotes can howl o'er his grave,
And his soul is now
a-resting,
from the unkind cut she gave;
And many another young puncher
As he rides
past that pile of stone,
Recalls some similar woman
And thinks of his moldering
bones.
@cowboy @outlaw @death
Recorded by Burl Ives and (I think) Tex
Ritter
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