CHORUS:
I wrote my new song on a five dollar bill
But I won't be able to sing it until
I get hot on the trail for to pick up the track
Of the dirty little thief and get my five bucks back
I first got the five dollars from a Montana man
When he come across the line with a pistol in his hand
He said gimme all your money but I got to his first
And I took his Colts too and the whole first verse
You see you couldn't buy liquor in the States back then
So we saddled up the ponies and we loaded up the gin
Rode underneath the shadow of the grande Old c***f
To git some northern Rocky Mountain kinda tax relief
You couldn't count on the cattle when the market got down
And the veterinary bills to the doctor in town
Both kids needed shoes and they had to get fed
And a big old bank lien was over my head
CHORUS
They wouldn't stop talking about Canadian rye
Bouquet and the palate and it's crisp and it's dry
In a Seagrams bottle, tasted mighty top shelf
I said "well, thank you very much, sir, I cooked it myself"
Of course, that didn't wash with the boys down south
Judging by the stream of color coming out of their mouth
Though I can't figure why, cuz from where I stood
It got 'em just as d*** drunk as any store bought would
CHORUS
Well, he come stormin' cross the border with six or eight guys
Some d*** fool saw fit to deputize
But there weren't no sheriff nor a marshall in sight
I guess the lawman was up drinkin' whiskey all night
He said gimme all your money but I got to his first
And I took his Colts too and the whole third verse
But he picked my back pocket; worked the five bucks loose
I had tucked in behind a can a Copenhagen snoose
CHORUS
The dirty little double dealing, son-of-a-gun-of-a song stealin', chicken eatin' thief
And get my five bucks back
I wrote my new song on a five dollar bill
But I won't be able to sing it until
I get hot on the trail for to pick up the track
Of the dirty little thief and get my five bucks back
I first got the five dollars from a Montana man
When he come across the line with a pistol in his hand
He said gimme all your money but I got to his first
And I took his Colts too and the whole first verse
You see you couldn't buy liquor in the States back then
So we saddled up the ponies and we loaded up the gin
Rode underneath the shadow of the grande Old c***f
To git some northern Rocky Mountain kinda tax relief
You couldn't count on the cattle when the market got down
And the veterinary bills to the doctor in town
Both kids needed shoes and they had to get fed
And a big old bank lien was over my head
CHORUS
They wouldn't stop talking about Canadian rye
Bouquet and the palate and it's crisp and it's dry
In a Seagrams bottle, tasted mighty top shelf
I said "well, thank you very much, sir, I cooked it myself"
Of course, that didn't wash with the boys down south
Judging by the stream of color coming out of their mouth
Though I can't figure why, cuz from where I stood
It got 'em just as d*** drunk as any store bought would
CHORUS
Well, he come stormin' cross the border with six or eight guys
Some d*** fool saw fit to deputize
But there weren't no sheriff nor a marshall in sight
I guess the lawman was up drinkin' whiskey all night
He said gimme all your money but I got to his first
And I took his Colts too and the whole third verse
But he picked my back pocket; worked the five bucks loose
I had tucked in behind a can a Copenhagen snoose
CHORUS
The dirty little double dealing, son-of-a-gun-of-a song stealin', chicken eatin' thief
And get my five bucks back