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Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott
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The Horse and Groom
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
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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...
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