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A young cowboy named Billy Joe grew restless on the farm |
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A boy filled with wanderlust who really meant no harm |
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He changed his clothes and shined his boots |
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And combed his dark hair down |
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And his mother cried as he walked out |
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"Don't take your guns to town, son |
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Leave your guns at home, Bill |
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Don't take your guns to town" |
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He laughed and kissed his mom and said your Billy Joe's a man |
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I can shoot as quick and straight as anybody can |
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But I wouldn't shoot without a cause |
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I'd gun nobody down |
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But she cried again as he rode away |
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"Don't take your guns to town, son |
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Leave your guns at home, Bill |
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Don't take your guns to town" |
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He sang a song as on he rode his guns hung at his hips |
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He rode into a cattle town, a smile upon his lips |
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He stopped and walked into a bar |
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And laid his money down |
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But his mother's words echoed again |
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"Don't take your guns to town, son |
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Leave your guns at home, Bill |
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Don't take your guns to town" |
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He drank his first strong liquor then to calm his shaking hand |
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And tried to tell himself |
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At last he had become a man |
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A dusty cowpoke at his side began to laugh him down |
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And he heard again his mothers words |
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"Don't take your guns to town, son |
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Leave your guns at home, Bill |
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Don't take your guns to town" |
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Filled with rage then Billy Joe reached for his gun to draw |
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But the stranger drew his gun and fired |
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Before he even saw |
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As Billy Joe fell to the floor, the crowd all gathered 'round |
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And wondered at his final words |
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"Don't take your guns to town, son |
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Leave your guns at home, Bill |
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Don't take your guns to town" |
