He takes his gun from the shelf
Contemplates to himself
What did he have to lose
What did he have left
A good day to die
He pulls his hat down to his brow
The scorn of a man in love
The devils got him now
Then he steps outside
Such a good day to die
The birds fly by overhead
The sun shining bright
He holsters his six gun
Mounts his pony and begins to run
Off to town to even a score
Going to shoot that sun of a gun
All for a woman
He saw him kissing yesterday
Today he will shoot him dead as dirt
Although a price to pay
He sees him with her
From his pony cuts him down
Tomorrow they will hang him
Was her father he shot down
A good day to die
They pull the rope down past his brow
The scorn of a man in love
The devils got him now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem