I've got no use for the women
A true one can seldom be found
They use a man for his money
When it's gone, they'll turn him down
They're all alike at the bottom
Selfish and grasping for all
They'll stay by a man when he's winning
And laugh in his face when he falls

My pal was an honest young puncher
Honest and upright and true
But he turned to a hard-shooting gunman
On account of a girl named Lou
He fell in with evil companions
The kind that are better off dead
When a gambler insulted her picture
He filled him full of lead

All through the long night they trailed him
Through mesquite and thick chaparral
I couldn't help think of that woman
As I saw him pitch and fall
If she'd been the pal that she should have
He might have been raising a son
Instead of out there on the prairie
To die by the ranger's gun

Death's sharp sting did not trouble
His chances for life were too slim
But where they were putting his body
Was all that worried him
He lifted his head on his elbow
The blood from his wounds flowed red
He gazed at his friends gathered around him
He looked up to them and he said:

"Bury me out on the prairie
Where the coyotes may howl o'er my grave
Bury me out on the prairie
But from them my bones please save
Wrap me up in my blankets
Bury me deep in the ground
Cover me over with boulders
Of granite gray and round."

Wee buried him out on the prairie
Where the coyotes can howl o'er his grave
His soul is now a-resting
From the unkind cut she gave
And many another young puncher
As he rides past that pile of stone
Recalls some similar woman
And thinks of his moldering bones