Clark Guy

Yeah, I'd play the Red River Valley.
He'd sit in the kitchen and cry.
Run his fingers through seventy years of livin'
And wonder if every well he'd drilled run dry.

We were friends, me and this old man,
Like desperados waitin' for a train,
Desperados waitin' for a train.

From the time that I could walk he'd take me with him
To a place called the Green Frog Cafe.
There was old men with beer guts and dominos
Lying 'bout their lives while they played.
I was just a kid, they all called me "Sidekick"
Like desperados waitin' for a train.
Like desperados waitin' for a train.

He's a drifter, he's a driller of oil wells.
He's an old school man of the world.
He taught me how to drive his car when he's too drunk to,
And he'd wink and give me money for the girls.
And our lives was like, some old Western movie.
Like desperados waitin' for a train.
Like desperados waitin' for a train.

One day I looked up and he's pushin' eighty.
He's got brown tobacco stains all down his chin.
To me he was a hero of this country,
So why's he all dressed up like them old men,
Drinkin' beer and playin' Moon and Forty-two,
Like desperados waitin' for a train.
Like desperados waitin' for a train.

The day before he died I went to see him.
I was grown and he was almost gone.
So we closed our eyes and dreamed us up a kitchen,
And sang us one more verse to that old song.
(spoken) He said, "Yeah, Jack, that old son-of-a-bitch is a-comin'".

We're desperados waitin' for a train.
Was like desperados waitin' for a train.

Note: One arrangement is to lead or follow immediately
with a verse and chorus of "Red River Valley".