TOMBSTONE

 A town called Tombstone
 Attracts many characters
 All kinds, many shapes
 
Take Lucky, for one, 
He shot his own foot by mistake. 
Now he's called Limpy
 
Old John Shaw, Cowboy
Until broken fences let
His cows runaway

Barb and Jane, sisters
With a mighty fine house there
That swinging front door

Grateful that we're here
The saloon run by Sharkey
Keeps us in whiskey

 This place called Tombstone
 Like the one in Montana
 This ain't Montana 

Our local Sheriff
Appointed for the county
Always out of town

Always drunk old Bill 
Tells tales of war and gunfights
Nothing he did though

We have a Dep'ty
Jim, who sleeps in the lockup
When he's not at Jane's

People of Tombstone
People who founded this town
They are long long dead

Preacher has a church
And Smithy made him a bell
Hear it on Sundays

A fine man - Smithy
We never learned his Christian name
Warmest shed in town

 Tombstone springtime rain
 Clouds hold back plenty enough
 Always use more rain

 Tombstone summer heat
 Wind whipping across flat plains
 Scrub dry grass bends

 Tombstone autumn fall
 Apples right to the basket
 Good mashed for cider


 Tombstone winter cold
 Haul in scrub and wood to burn
 Keep the kettle hot

When strangers arrive
Dirty from hard trail riding
They stop at Sharkey's

Mexican refuge
The wars drove them far from home
Welcome in Tombstone

Are you passing through?
Kind Brody offers stables 
A bed in the back

The Argyle brothers
They come to town just for fun
They keep to themselves

 Dusty dry Tombstone
 Tumbling weeds tumble, and stay
 Some just tumble through