Pulled a gun with no warning, it soon did its chore,
He caught him four doses now he's dead for sure.
In the smoke and the madness four shots called the score,
Now, no less and no more from a colt forty-four.

Ha-ha-ha, heh-heh he he, it's funny for sure,
To read of things so corny, like this epitaph lore.
In the ground here lies Les Moore,
Four shots called the score.
Now, no less and no more from a colt forty-four.

From a gun brought some mournin' up on old boot hill,
Those .44 doses most certainly kill.
A quick gun spelled disaster for old Lester Moore, *
Death came quick out the end of a colt forty-four.

---- Instrumental Interlude ----

Though he's late no ones grieving way up on boot hill,
Gone away to God's kingdom, he's buried there still.
Bury me said this guy if someday I get killed,
Put a song on my grave site up on old boot hill.

Ha-ha-ha, heh-heh he he, it's funny for sure,
To read of things so corny, like poor old Lester Moore.
Ha-ha-ha, heh-heh he he,
Four shots called the score.
Now, no less and no more from a colt forty-four.

Ha-ha-ha, heh-heh he he,
It's funny for sure,
To read of things so corny, like like poor Lester Moore.