Ain't got no use for the women
A true one may seldom be found
They'll 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 his 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
They 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 long night they trailed him
Through misquete and thick chapperal
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 a Ranger's gun
Death's sharp sting did not trouble
His chances for life were too slim
Where they were putting his body
Was all that worried him
He lifted his head on his elbow
The blood from his wound flowed red
He gazed at his comrades grouped round him
And wept to them and said
Bury me out on the prairie
Where the coyotes can howl o'er my grave
Bury me out on the prairie
But from them, my bones please save
Wrap me up in my blanket
Bury me deep in the ground
Cover me over with boulders
Of granite, grey and round.
And many another young puncher
As he rides past the pile of stones
Recalls some similar woman
And thinks of his moulderin' bones

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS