Billy the Kid

I’ll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid
I’ll sing of the desperate deeds that he did
Way out in New Mexico long, long ago
When a man’s only chance was an old forty-four

When Billie [sic] the Kid was a very young lad
Out in Silver City he went to the bad
Way out in the West with a gun in his hand
Altho but twelve years old, he killed his first man

Fair Mexican Maidens play guitars and sing
A song about Billie their boy-bandit king
How ere his young manhood would reach it’s sad end
Had a notch on his pistol for twenty-one men

On the very same night when poor Billie had died
He said to his friends, I am not satisfied
There were twenty-one men I have put bullets through
And Sheriff Pat Garrett must make twenty-two

Now this is how Billie the Kid met his fate
The bright moon was shining, the hour was late
Shot down by Pat Garrett who once was his friend
The young outlaw’s life had now come to an end

Down in Pecos Valley all covered with green
Out in “Hell’s Half-Acre” three graves can be seen
Where Tommie and Charlie and Billie now lie
Their trail of blood ended, they all had to die

There’s many a man with a face fine and fair
Who starts out in life with a chance to be square
But just like poor Billie, he wanders astray
And loses his life in the very same way

Two versions, both published in Austin E. and Alta S. Fife’s 1982 collection, Cowboy and Western Songs: A Comprehensive Anthology.

A. Billy the Kid

I’ll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid
And tell of the desperate deeds that he did
Out here in the West, boys, in New Mexico
When a man’s best friend was his old forty-four

When Billy the Kid was a very young lad
In Old Silver City, he went to the bad
At twelve years of age the Kid killed his first man
Then blazed a wild trail with a gun in each hand

Fair Mexican maidens played soft on guitars
And saing of Billinto their king ‘neath the stars
He was a brave lover, and proud of his fame
And no man could stand ‘gainst the Kid’s deadly aim

Now Billy ranged wide, and his killings were vile
He shot fast, and first, when his blood got a-rile
And, ‘fore his young manhood did reach its sad end
His six-guns held notches for twenty-one men

Then Gov’ner Lew Wallace sent word to the Kid
To ride in and talk, for a pardon to bid
But Billy said: “I ain’t a-feered [sic] of the law
Thar’s [sic] no man a-living can beat me to the draw”

The Gov’ner then sent for another fast man
Pat Garrett, the sherrif, and told of a plan
To catch Billy napping at his gal’s; so he said
“We’ll bring him to Justice: alive or plumb dead”

‘Twas on the same night, into town Billy rid
And said” “Mis amigos, all hark to the Kid
There’s twenty-one men I have put bullets through
And Sherrif Pat Garrett must make twenty-two

Now this is how Billy the Kid met his fate
The bright moon was shining, the hour was late
To Pete Maxwell’s place Billy went in all pride
Not knowing the dark hid the Sherrif inside

As billy show’d plain in the moon-lighted door
He fell in his tracks and lay dead on the floor
Shot down by Pat Garrett, who once was his friend
Young Billy, the Outlaw, and his life fif end

There’s many a boy with a fine face and air
That starts in his life with the chances all fair
But, like young Billito, he wanders astray
And departs in his life in the same hardful way

B. The Ballad of Billy the Kid

No man in the West ever won such renown
As young Billy Bonney of Santa Fe town
And of all the wild outlaws that met a bad end
None so quick with a pistol or true to a friend

It was in Silver city his first trouble came
A man called Billy’s mother a very foul name
Billy swore to get even, his chance it came soon
When he stabbed that young man in Joe Dyer’s saloon

He kissed his poor mother and fled from the scene
A bold desperado and not yet fifteen
He hid in a sheep-camp but short was his stay
For he stole a pony and rode far away

At monte and faro he next took a hand
And lived in Tuscon on the fat of the land
But the game was too easy, the life was too slow
So he drifted alone into Old Mexico

It was not very long before Billy came back
With a notch in his gun and some gold in a sack
He struck for the Pecos his comrades to see
Abd they all rode to Lincoln and went on a spree

There he met his friend Tunstall and hired as a hand
To fight with the braves of the Jingle-bob brand
Then Tunstall was murdered and left in his gore
To avenge that foul murder Young Billy he swore

First Morton and Baker he swiftly did kill
Then he slaughtered Bill Robers at Blazer’s sawmill
Sheriff Brady and Hindman in Lincoln he slew
Then he rode to John Chisum’s along with his crew

There he stood off a posse and drove them away
In McSween’s house in Lincoln he made his next play
Surrounded he fought till the house was burned down
But he dashed through the flames and escaped from the town

Young Billy rode north and young Billy rode south
He plundered and killed with a smile on his mouth
But he always came back to Fort Sumner again
For his Mexican sweetheart was living there then

His trackers were many, they followed him fast
In Arroyo Tiván he was captured at last
He was taken to Lincoln and put under guard
And sentenced to hang in the old court-house yard

J. Bell and Bob Ollinger watched day and night
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Young Billy gave Ollinger scarcely a glance
But sat very still and awaited his chance

One day he played cards with J. Bell in the room
Who had no idea how close was his doom
Billy slipped off a handcuff, hit Bell on the head
Then he snatched for the pistol and shot him down dead

Bob Ollinger heard and he ran to the spot
To see what had happened and who had been shot
Young Billy looked down from a window and fired
Bob Ollinger sank to the ground and expired

Then Young Billy escaped on a horse that was near
As he rode forth from Lincoln he let out a cheer
Though his foes they were many he feared not a-one
So long as a cartridge remained in his gun

But his comrades were dead or had fled from the land
It was up to Young Billy to play a lone hand
And Sheriff Pat Garrett he searched far and wide
Never thinking the Kid in Fort Sumner would hide

But when Garrett heard Billy was hiding in town
He went to Pete Maxwell’s when the sun had gone down
The door was wide open, the night it was hot
So Pat Garrett walked in and sat down by Pete’s cot

Young Billy had gone for to cut him some meat
No hat on his head and no boots on his feet
When he saw two strange men on the porch in the gloom
He pulled his gun quick and backed into the room

Billy said, “Who is that?” and he spoke Maxwell’s name
Then from pat Garrett’s pistol the answer it came
The swift, cruel bullet went true to its mark
And Young Billy fell dead on the floor in the dark

So young Billy Bonney he came to his end
Shot down by Pat Garrett who once was his friend
Though for coolness and courage both gunmen rank high
It was Fate that decided Young Billy should die

Each year of his life was a notch on his gun
For twenty-one years he had slain twenty-one
His grave is unmarked and by desert sands hid
And so ends the true story of Billy the Kid

Published in John A. and Alan Lomax’s 1938 collection, Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads. According to Jim Tinsley in his 1981 book, He Was Singin’ This Song, Lomax received the ballad from a former student, who received it from Jim Marby of Tuscon, AZ.

Billy was a bad man
And carried a gun
He was always after Greasers
And kept ‘em on the run

He shot one every morning
For to make his morning meal
And let a white man sass him
He was shore [sic] to feel his steel

He kept folks in hot water
And he stole from many a stage
And when he was full of liquor
He was always in a rage

But one day he met a man
Who was a whole lot badder
And now he’s dead
And we ain’t none the sadder