Come all you young cowboys and sit by the fire,
I’ll sing you a sad song of young Bill McGuire.
He was an outlaw; his name was well-known,
From Reno to Frisco, and the town of Flagstone.
He met a young girl and she was his dream,
He held his Latina rose in highest esteem.
This Mexican maiden had high hopes for Bill,
And for Rosa her dreams he vowed to fulfill.
One night as they danced to an old Spanish tune,
A ranger was spotted in the light of the moon.
Six ways of dyin' was clutched in his hand,
Arresting young Bill would be his demand.
The lawman yelled out to this young Texas gun,
Come quietly with me, or you’ll die if you run.
Like lightning Bill turned and in his left hand,
Was a forty-four iron and Colt was its brand.
The shootin’ began, bullets flew through the air.
Bill was a hollerin’ and to his despair,
A pain in his side and he knew he was done,
The ranger had beat him before he’d begun.
The maiden ran out in the midst of the feud,
Caught in the fight which she hoped to elude.
Rosa cried out as she clutched at her breast,
A forty-four bullet buried deep in her chest.
The young outlaw wept when he saw his sweetheart,
He promised her truly that they’d never part.
Both Rosa and Bill quietly lay side by side.
His hand touching hers before they both died.
Their story was told, and so troubadours sing,
Songs about Rosa and her young bandit king.
Midnight’s the hour, which they can be seen,
Dancing together in a world that’s serene.
Malcolm Elliott-Davey © 2009