| C | Am | |
| Nobody knew where he | came from |
| C | Am | |
| They only knew he came | in |
| C | Am | |
| Slowly he walked to the | end of the bar |
| Dm | E7 | |
| And he | ordered up one slug of | gin |
| Am | Dm | |
| Well, I could | see that he wasn't a | large man |
| G | C | |
| I could | tell that he wasn't too | tall |
| E7 | Am | |
| I | judged him to be | 'bout five-foot three |
| D | G | |
| And his | voice was a soft Texas | drawl. |
| Said he was needin' some wages |
| 'Fore he could ride for the west |
| Said he could do most all kind of work |
| Said he could ride with the best; |
| There in his blue eyes was sadness |
| That comes from the need of a friend |
| And tho' he tried, he still couldn't hide |
| The loneliness there, deep within. |
| Said he would work thru the winter |
| For thirty a month and his board |
| I started to say where he might land a job |
| When a fellow came in thru the door; |
| And I could tell he was lookin' for trouble |
| From the way that he came stompin' in |
| He told me to leave Shorty there by himself |
| Come down and wait on a man. |
| The eyes of the little man narrowed |
| The smile disappeared from his face |
| Gone was the friendliness that I had seen |
| And a wild look of hate took its' place; |
| But the big one continued to mock him |
| And he told me that I'd better go |
| Find him a couple of glasses of milk |
| Then maybe Shorty would grow. |
| When the little man spoke, there was stillness |
| He made sure that everyone heard |
| Slowly he stepped away from the bar |
| And I still remember these words; |
| Oh! it's plain that you're lookin' for trouble |
| Trouble's what I try to shun |
| If that's what you want, then that's what you'll get |
| 'Cause cowboy, we're both packin' guns. |
| His hand was already positioned |
| Feet wide apart on the floor |
| I hadn't noticed but there on his hip |
| Was a short-barreled Bass Forty-Four; |
| It was plain he was ready and waitin' |
| He leaned a bit forward and said |
| When you call me Shorty, say Mister, my friend |
| Maybe you'd rather be dead. |
| In the room was a terrible silence |
| As the big one stepped out on the floor |
| All drinkin' stopped and the tick of the clock |
| Said death would wait ten seconds more; |
| He cussed once or twice in a whisper |
| And he said with a snarl on his lips |
| Nobody's Mister to me, little man! |
| And he grabbed for the gun on his hips. |
| But the little man's hands was like lightning |
| The Bass Forty-Four was the same |
| The Forty-Four spoke and it sent lead and smoke |
| And seventeen inches of flame; |
| For the big one had never cleared leather |
| Beaten before he could start |
| A little round hole had appeared on his shirt |
| The bullet went clear thru his heart. |
| The little man stood there a moment |
| Then holstered the Bass Forty-Four |
| It's always this way so I never stay |
| Slowly he walked out the door; |
| Nobody knew where he came from |
| They won't forget he came by |
| They won't forget how a Forty-Four gun |
| One night made the difference in size. |
| C | Am | |
| As for me, I'll remember the | sadness |
| C | Am | |
| Shown in the eyes of the | man |
| C | Am | |
| If we meet someday, you can | bet I would say |
| D | D7 | |
| That it's | me, Mister | Shorty, |
| G | F | G | |
| Your | frien- | ien- | end. |
| SOURCE: |
| Marty Robbins-In The Wild West, Part 5 |
| Note1. Lyrics; K5UYB |
| Note2. Chords; Zoomer |