The Ballad of the Second Chance Saloon

Well, I'm a rambler, a gambler and a bad man all through
there never was nothing that I wouldn't do.

I rode into Deadhorse one late afternoon
where the one place for whiskey was the Second Chance Saloon.

And I met with a card sharp, we sat down to play
and I took my last dollar and threw it away.

Well, the deck it was crooked and so pretty soon
that gambler lay dead in the Second Chance Saloon.

And I stood in the gunsmoke and threatened the life
of Deadhorse's bartender, children and wife

'cause I was an outlaw, a murdering goon
from the moment I drew in the Second Chance Saloon.

And I'd leave me no witness to talk to the law
of a card sharp who died at the end of my draw.

But just then the doors they swung wide and the moon
looked down on the blood in the Second Chance Saloon

and a preacher came in, he was rawboned and tall
and said, "Put down the gun, boy, I'm gonna make you crawl."

He had him no weapon, he was dead to rights.
All I had to do was to put out his lights

but my finger it froze on the trigger so cold
for the preacher had laid a hard hand on my soul.

And down on my knees in the blood on the floor
I prayed for forgiveness, repentance I swore.

"Go down to the jailhouse and turn yourself in
and pray and work hard to atone for your sin.

You're a killer, a bad man, but I'll change your tune
since God sent you here to the Second Chance Saloon."

For the rest of my life now, this story I'll tell,
what I saw when the preacher man laid down his spell
--the batwing saloon doors stood open on Hell.

--for Writer's Island: Second Chance