Thirty-two miles from San Antone, a little place that we called home
We grew our beards and fought like me, we prayed that God would forgive our sins
Met up with Davy on Christmas Day, but I caught the fever and I had to stay
A few days later I got well, but the Alamo done went to Hell
Hard times at Hardscramble, you's born to rock, I's born to ramble
Dying ain't hard, but living is a gamble, we ain't never going back to Hardscramble
Got in a fight with Colonel Ross and my right arm had to pay the cost
He pulled a long gun, I did the same, I shot crooked, he shot straight
One year later, Ol' brother Henry caught him down by the Mississippi
Reuben pulled a long gun, Henry pulled a Colt
Got him the chest, that was all she wrote
Hard times at Hardscramble, you's born to rock, I's born to ramble
Dying ain't hard, but living is a gamble, we ain't never going back to Hardscramble
March of 1862 we fought hard and they did too
Met my match in Arkansas, well that Illinois boy got the quicker draw
Shot from the saddle, died in the mud, don't mind the dying, don't mind the blood
Rather be buried in Tennessee, but Little Rock is alright with me
Hard times at Hardscramble, you's born to rock, I's born to ramble
Dying ain't hard when living is a gamble, we ain't never going back to Hardscramble
We ain't never going back to Hardscramble
We ain't never going back to Hardscramble
We ain't never going back to Hardscramble