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Bob Booker - Ballad of Irving lyrics
He was short and fat and road out of the West With a Mogen David on his silver vest He was mean and nasty right clear through Which was kind of weird cause he was yellow too They called him Irving Big Irving Big, short Irving Big, short, fat Irving The hundred and forty-second fastest gun in the West He came from the old Bar Mitzvahs spread Schlepping a salami and pumpernickel bread He always followed his mother's wishes Even on the range he used two sets of dishes Irving Big, fat Irving Big sissy Irving The hundred and forty-second fastest gun in the West A hundred and forty-one could draw faster than he But Irving was looking for one forty-three Walked into Saul's saloon like a man insane And ordered three fingers of two-cents plain Irving Big, fat Irving Big sport Irving The hundred and forty-second fastest gun in the West The James boys was comin' on the train at first sun And the town said, "Irving, we need your gun" When that train pulled in at the break of dawn Irving's gun was there, but Irving was gone Irving Big, fat Irving Big help Irving The hundred and forty-second fastest gun in the West Well finally Irving got three slugs in the belly It was right outside the frontier deli He was sittin' there twirling his gun aroun' And butter-fingers Irving gunned himself down Irving Big, fat Irving Big dumb-dumb Irving Big dumb-dumb, dead Irving The hundred and forty-second fastest gun in the West |
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