It was high noon on the eighth of June
And the town was hushed as mice.
Two cowpokes faced off outside the saloon,
Their gazes cold as ice.
A coyote howled on some distant hill,
But the fighters stances held.
And they stood, and stood, and stood stock still,
Or so I have been telled.
Then, lightning fast, Bill Hoover the Blue
Drew his silver gun.
Snakebite Stanley whipped his out too,
And they shot under the scorching sun.
No blood was spilled that fateful day,
Though the duo fired twelve rounds.
Two dogs took the bullets, they leapt in the way
And it died, two peace-loving hounds.
That fight was intense, under the suns scorching rays
But it was never made into a film, ’cause, well,
You can kill pretty much anything in movies these days
But kill a dog, and you’re going to Hell.
