A young man rode with his head held high,
Under the Texas sun,
And no one guessed,
That a man so blessed,
Would perish by the gun,
Lord, would perish by the gun.
A shot rang out like a Southern shout,
And Heaven held it's breath,
For a man shot down,
In a Southern town,
In the summer of his years,
Yes, the summer of his years.
And we who stay mustn't ever lose,
The victories that he's won,
For wherever