The Clover Saloon

I'm just a dusty cowhand, a dusty, thirsty soul. I used to keep my money in a pocket with a hole. I've got one ambition like wishing for the moon: to drink a glass of pleasure, four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over at the Clover Saloon. I was settin' there one evening' and feelin' I was straight. A fella called me somethin' I particularly hate. I threw a bottle at him, but the feller ducked to soon. That's how I lost my credit at the Clover Saloon. I'm just a dusty cowhand and, brother, I am broke. And, brother, I'm so thirsty I'm goin' up in smoke. I've got one ambition like wishing for the moon: to drink a glass of pleasure, four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over at the Clover Saloon. Threw the bottle at him and missed him like I said. I broke the bar-room mirror and left it there for dead. I shot him through the middle to make him change his tune. That's how I lost my credit at the Clover Saloon. I'm just a dusty cowhand a-waitin' for the worst. They're hangin' me tomorrow in the middle of my thirst. I've got one ambition like wishing for the moon: to drink a glass of pleasure, four-measure, bulgin' out and brimmin' over at the Clover Saloon.