Boots and Stetson and six guns And the lilies grow high They grow for a man with a gunslingin' hand Who before his time must die. They grow in the trail he has traveled A trail well spattered with lead They weep for the graves of the many Men they weep for the men now dead. He rides along lonely, no friends But only the lilies growin' high All men seem to fear him, not one will go near him And he knows the reason why. His name and fame spread before him Like a carpet of d**h and he knows One day he'll be slow on the draw And then for him a lily will grow. A woman may love him though she knows Soon above him the lilies growin' high Then like the lily she'll bow down her head Bow down her poor head and cry. On some boothill they will lay him And a headboard will sway in the wind The lily will nod and gently weep For another gunman's end. Boots and Stetson and six guns And the lilies grow high Boots and Stetson and six guns And the lilies grow high...