He lay face down
in the desert sand,
clutching a six -gun in his hand.
Shot in behind, I thought he was dead,
for under his heart was an ounce of lead.
But a spark still burned,
I used my knife.
Late that night I saved the life
of Ringo. Ringo, Ringo
I nursed him till the danger passed,
the days went by, he men ded fast
And then from dawn till setting sun,
he practiced with that deadly gun
Hour on hour I watched in awe,
no human being could beat
the draw of Ringo
Ringo, Ringo
One day we rode to Mountain Crest,
and I went east, and he went west.
I took to law, wore a star,
and he spread terror near and far.
With lead and blood
he gained such fame
throughout the West,
they feared the name of Ringo.
I knew someday I'd face the test,
which one of us would be the best,
and sure enough,
The word came down
that he was holed up in our town.
I left the posse in the street,
and I went in alone to meet Ringo.
They said my speed was next to none,
but my lightning draw had just begun.
When I heard a blast that
stung my wrist,
the gun went flying from my fist,
And I was lookin' down the bore
of the deadly .44 of Ringo.
Ringo, Ringo,
They say that was the only time
that anyone had seen him smile.
He slowly lured his gun
and then he said to me,
We're even friend.
And so at last I understood
that there was still a spark
of good in Ringo. Ringo, Ringo
I blocked the path of his retreat,
he turned and stepped into the street,
and a dozen guns spit fire and lead.
A moment later he lay dead.
The town began to shout and cheer,
nowhere was there shed a tear for Ringo.
The story spread throughout the land
that I'd beaten Ringo's hand,
and it was just the years,
they say that made me put
my guns away.
But on his grave they can't explain
a tarnished star
above the name of Ringo.
Ringo, Ringo, Ringo, Ringo. you