Bright blue eyes,

And a cocky grin,

He had a way of escaping the law,

And got under many a sheriffs skin,

He rode proud and free,

Over New Mexican land,

Leaving behind a boisterous legacy,

He rose with the sun,

Always eager,

To get his job done,

A way with the woman,

It was said he had,

Who could blame him,

Girls like boys that're bad,

But as they say,

It was too good to be true,

Old Mexico was where he should've gone,

And he knew it too,

But then it was too late,

And he fell to the gun,

All so Pat Garret could be great,

"You always wanted to be a known man Patsy,"

Billy did say,

And now in his grave,

Billy does lay,

Or so it is said,

But it might not be true,

If you were Billy the Kid,

Could the grave tame you?