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I'll s [A] ing you a true song  [E] of Billy the Kid,   
I'll s [A] ing of the desperate  [E] deeds that he did, 
 [A] out in New Mexico l [D] ong time ago,  
when a m [E] an's only chance was his own fo [A] rty-four.          
  
When B [A] illy the Kid was a  [E] very young lad, 
in  [A] old Silver City he  [E] went to the bad, 
way o [A] ut in the West with a  [D] gun in his hand, 
at the  [E] age of twelve years, he killed his fir [A] st man. 
  
Fair M [A] exican maidens play [E]  guitars and sing, 
a s [A] ong about Billy, their  [E] boy bandit king, 
who  [A] re his young man-hood had [D]  reached its sad end, 
had a n [E] otch on his pistol for twenty-one [A]  men. 
  
Twas  [A] on the same night, when [E]  poor Billy died, 
he  [A] said to his friends, "I am  [E] not satisfied, 
tw [A] enty-one men I have [D]  put bullets through, 
Sh [E] eriff Pat Garrett must make twenty [A] -two." 
  
Now th [A] is is how Billy the  [E] Kid met his fate, 
the br [A] ight moon was shining, the [E]  hour was late, 
shot d [A] own by Pat Garrett, who  [D] once was his friend, 
the yo [E] ung outlaw's life had now come to its [A]  end. 
  
There's m [A] any a man with  [E] a face fine and fair, 
who st [A] arts out in life with a  [E] chance to be square, 
but j [A] ust like poor Billy, he  [D] wanders astray, 
and l [E] oses his life in the very same [A]  way.