Pancho and Lefty
Townes van Zandt
| C | G |
| Living on the road, my friend, | is gonna keep you free and clean; |
| F | C | G |
| Now you wear your skin like iron and your | breath is as hard as | kerosene. |
| F | C | F |
| You weren't your mama's only boy, but her | favorite one it | seems - |
| C | F | C | G | F | Am | G | C |
She be | gan to cry when you | said | good | bye - and | sank into your | dreams. | | |
| C | G |
| Pancho was a bandit boy, | his horse was fast as polished steel; |
| F | C | G |
| He wore his gun outside his pants | for all the honest | world to feel. |
| F | C | F |
| Pancho met his match you know on the | deserts down in | Mexico |
| C | F | C | G | F | Am | G | F |
| Nobody heard his | dy | ing | words, ah but | that's the way it | goes. | | |
| F | C | F |
And | all the Federales say - | they could have had him | any day; |
| C | F | C | G | F | Am | G | C |
They | only let him | hang | a | round - out of | kindness, I sup | pose. | | |
| C | G |
| Lefty, he can't sing the blues | all night long like he used to. |
| F | C | G |
| The dust that Pancho bit down south | ended up in | Lefty's mouth; |
| F | C | F |
| The day they laid poor Pancho low, | Lefty split for | Ohio |
| C | F | C | G | G | Am | G | F |
| Where he got the | bread | to | go, there | ain't nobody | knows | | |
And all the Federales say - they could have had him any day; | |
They only let him slip away - out of kindness, I suppose. | |
| C | G |
| Well the boys tell how Pancho fell, and | Lefty's living in a cheap hotel |
| F | C | G |
| The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold, | and so the story | ends we're told. |
| F | C | F |
| Pancho needs your prayers, it's true, but | save a few for | Lefty too |
| C | F | C | G | F | Am | G | F |
| He just did what he | had | to | do, and | now he's growing | old. | | |
A few gray Federales say they could have had him any day; | |
They only let him go so wrong - out of kindness, I suppose. | |
A few gray Federales say... | |
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