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GHere lies Les Moore, Dfour slugs from a forty-four, no Les no morGe.
Out in Arizona, Emjust south of TucsoGn, where tumbEmleweeds tumble in search of a hDome,
there's a town they call Tombstone
where the brave Gnever cry. They live by a six-gun, Emby a six-Dgun they die. G
It's been a long time nowEm since the town was a boon. G The jailhouse is empty, sEmo's the Palace Saloon. D Just one look will tell you that this town was real. G A secluded old dirt road Emleads up Dto Boot Hill. G
Walk up to the fence therEme and look at the view; G That's where they were hangin', eightEmeen-eighty-two. D It's easy to see where the brave men died; G Rope marks on the old tree areEm now petDrified. G
At night, when the moon shinesEm so far away, G It gets mighty lonesomeEm, lookin' down on their graves. D There lies Billy Klen; never wanted to kill, G but he's there with the guilty, wayEm up on BDoot Hill. G