A Gunfightin’ Man

He was born and raised in a farming town
Dad went to war, he wasn’t always around
But he’d taught him to shoot, he taught him to pray
The son followed in the father’s way.

They tested to see if he could take the strains
Of endless training and jumping from planes
The way of the knife and hand to hand
A way of life for any gun fightin’ man

Drop me in the sea or on dry land
Load me out and put guns in my hands
An M4, a .50 cal., a 9 mm
Some of the tools for gun fightin’ men

When a team of hard men face eternity
In dangers that few others ever see
They don’t do it for you, they don’t do it for me
They’re keeping their brothers alive and free

When a firefight starts out of nowhere it seems
It’s hard to think amid all the screams
Hell is raining down upon their squad
Holy Mary, Mother of God


Drop me in the sea or on dry land
Load me out, put guns in my hands
An M4, a .50 cal., a 9 mm
That’s a fair start for gun fightin’ men

He signed up young and just 10 years on
Too many friends are now broken or gone
Along the way he lost a wife and a son
Too often the price to live by the gun

He tried to come home and put his past on a shelf
But gun fighting men ain’t good for much else
He’ll cover the pain with whiskey and gin
Be back with the team in the saddle again

Drop me in the sea or on dry land
Load me out and put guns in my hands
An M4, a .50 cal., a 9 mm
Some of the tools for gun fightin’ men