Hart Creek Debutante Ball
Words and Music: Don Walker/Graeme Connors
He was dead before he hit the floor
There was nothing we could do
Everyone just stood there stunned
Hoping he'd come to
Knowing in our heart of hearts
He had no chance at all
Against a .303 and blind jealousy
At the Hart Creek Debutante Ball
He was just a wild young country boy
Who drank and played around
A well-known threat to the self-respect
Of several men in town
But the one who shot him down was not
A local man at all
But a young girl who nobody knew
Instrumental....
With the smoking gun still on her arm
I heard her say “farewell”
And “C'est la vie, my love” as she
Ejected the spent shell
Then she tossed a diamond ring across
That old Masonic Hall
She was all alone and eight months gone
At the Hart Creek Debutante Ball
Instrumental....
So Mothers tell your wayward sons
Not to drink and womanise
Or some dark night they'll pay the price
Straight between the eyes
Cause a fiancée in the family way
Can be no fun at all
With .303 and blind jealousy
At the Hart Creek Debutante Ball