The Ballad of Slade Killgun

They called him Slade,

Slade Killgun.

He truly was an evil S.O.B.

Slade, Slade Killgun.

A psycho-killer out of Western history.

First Slade would shoot you,

Then he’d cut you.

Yeee-hawww!

And string your guts for all the world to see.

Oh, he was evil and inhuman,

A psycho-killer out of Western history.

But folks all loved him

‘Cause they were greedy.

And Slade’s exploits

Gave this town publicity.

Yep, thanks to Slade, each hotel were filled to bursting

With Texas Rangers who wore a badge like me.

Not to mention bounty hunter scumbags,

Dime novelist scribblers,

And crazy whores

Who dreamed of death in agony.

All them folks, good, bad and ugly,

Spent their coin

With goddamn liberality.

Slade was your pal …

His knife made money!

What’s a body here or there?

Ain’t nothing free.

You folks all loved him

‘Cause you were greedy.

And Slade’s exploits

Gave your town publicity.

Then, one fine day, old Slade commenced to riding

And cracked his neck on a branch from a rotten tree.

Kee-rack!

A certain Sherriff found him there a-hanging

And told the Mayor …

“Let’s keep this shit twixt you and me.”

You two ‘suckers buried Slade but kept it quiet.

And kept on killing.

So the tourists wouldn’t flee.

You’d hack up victims

Then count the profits.

This shit went on for years

I’m sad to say.

Your whole damn town

Knew what the deal was.

Now I do, too.

Starting now

You boys had best commence to pray.

Seems old Slade blew up the dam

Back up the river.

And your whole goddamn town

Got washed away.

Slade’s final act of sick revenge, boys

At least that’s what

Them papers gonna say.

They called him Slade,

Slade Killgun.

He truly was an evil S.O.B.

He couldn’t help it; but you folks could.

I’m gonna keep you out of Western history.