Boots and Stetson and six guns And the lilies grow high They grow for a man with a gun-slingin' hand That before his time must die They grow in the trail he has traveled A trail well-spattered with lead They weep for the graves of the many men They weep for the men now dead He rides along lonely, no friends but only The lilies growin' high All men seemed to fear him, not one will go near him He knows the reason why His name and fame spread before him Like a carpet of death he knows One day, he'll be slow on the draw and then For him, a lily will grow A woman may love him, though she knows soon above him The lilies' growin' high Then like the lily, she'll bow down her head Bow down her poor head and cry On some boot hill, they will lay him And the headboard will sway in the wind A lily will nod and gently weep For another gunmen's end Boots and Stetson and six guns And the lilies grow high