Sonora's Death Row

Mescal is free in Amanda's saloon for the boys from the old Broken Hole
Saturday nights in the town of Sonora are the best in all Mexico
They've got guitars and trumpets and sweet senoritas who won't want to let you go
You'd never believe such a happy town had a street called Sonora's death row

Inside Amanda's we were all dancing with six of Amanda's gals
I won some silver at 7-card stud so I was outdoing my pals
But the whiskey and mescal and peso cigars drove me outside for some air
Somebody whispered "Your life or your money," I reached but my gun wasn't there

I woke up face down in Amanda's back alley, aware of the fool I had been
Rushed to a saddle and grabbed someone's rifle and entered Amanda's again
Where I saw my partners twirling my pistol and throwing my money around
Blinded by anger, I jacked the lever and one of them fell to the ground

Amanda's got silent like night in the desert, my friends stared in pure disbelief
Amanda was kneeling beside the dead cowboy plainly expressing her grief
And as I bowed my head a tremble shot through me, my pistol was still at my side
I felt my pockets and there was my money, I fell to my knees and I cried

A nightmare of mescal was all that it was, no one had robbed me at all
I wish I was dreaming the sound of the gallows they're testing just outside the wall
And the mescal's still free in Amanda's saloon for the boys from the old Broken Hole
I'd pay a ransom to drink there today and be free of Sonora's death row