Boots and Stetsons Boots and Stetsons, a six-gun and lilies grow high They grow for a man with a gunslinging hand Who before his time must die, must die They grow on the trail that he's riding A trail well-spattered with lead They wait for the graze of the many men They wait for the man now dead He rides along lonely, no friends but only The lilies growing high No man will go near him, they all seem to fear him And he knows the reason why His name in flames spread before him Like a carpet of death 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 but she knows soon about him The lilies growing high And then like the lily she'll bow down her head Bow down her poor head and cry On some moot hill 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 Stetsons, a six-gun and lilies grow high They grow for a man with a gun in slinging hand Who before his time must die Must die Must die