The Clover Saloon

I'm just a dusty cowhand,
a dusty, thirsty soul.
I used to keep my money
in a pocket with a hole.

I've got one ambition
like wishing for the moon:
to drink a glass of pleasure,
four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over
at the Clover Saloon.

I was settin' there one evening'
and feelin' I was straight.
A fella called me somethin'
I particularly hate.

I threw a bottle at him,
but the feller ducked to soon.
That's how I lost my credit
at the Clover Saloon.

I'm just a dusty cowhand
and, brother, I am broke.
And, brother, I'm so thirsty
I'm goin' up in smoke.

I've got one ambition
like wishing for the moon:
to drink a glass of pleasure,
four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over
at the Clover Saloon.

Threw the bottle at him
and missed him like I said.
I broke the bar-room mirror
and left it there for dead.

I shot him through the middle
to make him change his tune.
That's how I lost my credit
at the Clover Saloon.

I'm just a dusty cowhand
a-waitin' for the worst.
They're hangin' me tomorrow
in the middle of my thirst.

I've got one ambition
like wishing for the moon:
to drink a glass of pleasure,
four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over
at the Clover Saloon.