Mountain Rain

We came down from the mountains in the rain

And our buckskins dried on the warm and the windy plain

When the horses tired we walked them up the rise

With our hat brims pulled down low all across our eyes

And the dusty town lay before us in the setting sun

Turned a bloody red on the barrels of my scatter gun

And your Henry rifle hung behind your saddlebow

And my hands were sweating, buddy and my blood ran cold

And we circled round, put our backs to the sunset rays

And we moved through town in the shadows and the alleyways

And we hitched our horses round behind the grocery store

Then you hit the street and I covered from the grocery door

And the cards were drawn in the bar room poker game

But the playing stops when they heard you call the dealers name

And your shadow falls like a carpet to the bar room door

And it crossed my mind that I’d never killed a man before

And the figure framed in the doorway made the call

And your rifle flamed and he crumpled up against the wall

And you took it slow as you backed off down the street

And I saw you throw a dollar at the dead man’s feet

And we rode out for the mountains and the plain

Not a word was spoke till we tasted the mountain rain

And a man lay dead in the town we’d left behind

And my pappy said, “Son I know you’re not the killing kind

“But there comes a time when a thing just must be done

“It’s a dying crime when a gambler slays my eldest son”

And an unarmed boy in a mountain grave is lain

And his tears ran down and they mingled with the mountain rain