Tipo de gaita: Diatônica
Tom: qualquer

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Wasn't long before the story,

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Was relayed to Te-xas Red.

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But the outlaw didn't worry,

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Men that tried be-fore were dead.

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Twenty men had tried to take him.

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Twenty men had made a- slip.

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Twenty one would be the ranger,

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With the big iron on his hip.

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Big iron on his hip.

The morning passed so quickly,
It was time for them to meet.
It was twenty past eleven,
When they walked out in the street.
Folks were watching from the windows,
every-body held their breath.
They knew this handsome ranger,
Was about to meet his death.
About to meet his death.

There was forty feet between them
When they stopped to make their play.
And the swiftness of the ranger,
Is still talked about today.
Texas Red had not cleared leather,
Fore a bullet fairly ripped,
And the ranger's aim was deadly,
With the big iron on his hip.
Big iron on his hip.

It was over in a moment,
And the folks had gathered round.
There before them lay the body,
Of the outlaw on the ground.
Oh he might have went on living,
But he made one fatal slip,
When he tried to match the ranger,
With the big iron on his hip.
Big iron on his hip.

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Big iron, big iron,

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When he tried to match the Ranger,

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With the big iron on his hip.

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Big iron on his hip.