The Horse And Groom - Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott

From a hip saloon in the Horse and Groom

Cowboy rides alone now, whistling different tune

But it's time to lose the whiskey, just step down off that stool

The stallion riding, pistol-hiding, sentimental fool

I won't ride into the sunset behind the only grief

I won't say that I don't love her with a toothpick in my teeth

I rode into this one-horse town when the horse have just three legs

And now they're trying to rid this place of the lowlifes and the dregs

Dig that ground six feet down, for everyone to see

The saddle of that trusty steed and me

This arthritic pain, in the pouring rain

Whilst inside on the jukebox, Tammy sings again

But next time that you see these boots, they'll not be on my feet

They'll be hanging from the slow coach, to the local cemetery

A true cowboy will lay his hand which way the bottle spin

Wake up next to doused out fire, with bean juice down his chin

I rode into this one-horse town when the horse have just three legs

And now they're trying to rid this place of the lowlifes and the dregs

Dig that ground six feet down, for everyone to see

The saddle of that trusty steed and me

And me...

From a hip saloon in the Horse and Groom

Difficult to believe now, he was a cowboy in his day...