LYRICS
作曲 : Not Documented
Living on the road, my friend，
Was gonna keep you free and clean，
Now you wear your skin like iron，
Your breath's as hard as kerosene，
You weren't your mama's only boy，
But her favorite one, it seems，
She began to cry when you said goodbye，
And sank into your dreams，
Pancho was a bandit, boys，
His horse was fast as polished steel，
Wore his gun outside his pants，
For all the honest world to feel，
But Pancho met his match, you know，
In the deserts down in Mexico，
Nobody heard his dying words，
That's the way it goes，
And all the federales say，
They could have had him any day，
They only let him hang around，
Out of kindness, I suppose，
And Lefty, he can't sing the blues，
All night long like he used to，
The dust that Pancho bit down south，
Ended up in Lefty's mouth，
The day they laid poor Pancho low，
Lefty split for Ohio，
And where he got the bread to go，
Ain't nobody knows，
And all the federales say，
They could have had him any day，
They only let him slip away，
Out of kindness, I suppose，
Well, the poets tell how Pancho fell，
Lefty's living in a cheap hotel，
The desert's quiet, Cleveland's cold，
So the story ends, we're told，
Pancho needs your prayers, it's true，
But save a few for Lefty, too，
He just did what he had to do，
And now he's growing old，
And a few gray federales say，
They could have had him any day，
They only let him go so wrong，
Out of kindness, I suppose。
And a few gray federales say，
They could have had him any day，
They only let him go so wrong，
Out of kindness, I suppose。