I'm just a dusty cowhand,
a dusty, thirsty soul.
I used to keep my money
in a pocket with a hole.
I've got one ambition
like wishing for the moon:
to drink a glass of pleasure,
four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over
at the Clover Saloon.
I was settin' there one evening'
and feelin' I was straight.
A fella called me somethin'
I particularly hate.
I threw a bottle at him,
but the feller ducked to soon.
That's how I lost my credit
at the Clover Saloon.
I'm just a dusty cowhand
and, brother, I am broke.
And, brother, I'm so thirsty
I'm goin' up in smoke.
I've got one ambition
like wishing for the moon:
to drink a glass of pleasure,
four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over
at the Clover Saloon.
Threw the bottle at him
and missed him like I said.
I broke the bar-room mirror
and left it there for dead.
I shot him through the middle
to make him change his tune.
That's how I lost my credit
at the Clover Saloon.
I'm just a dusty cowhand
a-waitin' for the worst.
They're hangin' me tomorrow
in the middle of my thirst.
I've got one ambition
like wishing for the moon:
to drink a glass of pleasure,
four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over
at the Clover Saloon.

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