Слова:
Robbins Marty Gunfighter Ballads Trail Songs

To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn't have too much to say No one dared to ask his business,

I'm as sad as the willow That weeps in the valley Since you've gone, Since you've gone from my arms I'm as sad as the cold wind That rythes in the treetops

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso I fell in love with a Mexican girl Night-time would find me in Rosa's cantina Music would play and Felina would

They call me a drifter, they say I'm no good I'll never amount to a thing Well, I may be a drifter and I may be no good There's joy in this song that

I was hangin' around town, just spendin' my time Out of a job, not earnin' a dime A feller steps up and he said, "I suppose You're a bronc fighter from

I came to town to search for gold And I brought with me a memory And I seem to hear the night wind cry Go hang your dreams on the hangin' tree Your dreams

like the clouds upon the hill Run in your ponies closer and I'll tell to you my tale Of Utah Carol my partner and his last ride on the trail We rode

I got a hundred and sixty acres in the valley Got a hundred and sixty acres of the best Got an old stove there that'll cook three square And a bunk where

All day I've faced a barren waste Without the taste of water, cool water Old Dan and I with throats burned dry And souls that cry for water Cool, clear