There is a place I know way down in Mexico
High in the old Sierra Madre
Where many an outlaw band from across the Rio Grande
Have found a haven, a holdout, a hideaway
But danger rides with those who stray upon their secret hideaway
Where death is sure to welcome anyone within the law
But if a man must run from any lawman's gun
He'll find compadres in the old Sierra Madre
Deep in the dark of night, beside the campfire's light,
They weave the tales of the lies, of the bandits.
Of jewels rare and old, of coaches filled with gold,
Holdups pulled off like they planned it.
But danger rides with those who stray upon their secret hideaway
Where death is sure to welcome anyone within the law
But if a man must run from any lawman's gun
He'll find compadres in the old Sierra Madre
Deep in the dark of night, beside the campfire's light,
They weave the tales of the lies, of the bandits.
Of jewels rare and old, of coaches filled with gold,
Holdups pulled off like they planned it.
But danger rides with those who stray upon their secret hideaway
Where death is sure to welcome anyone within the law
But if a man must run from any lawman's gun
He'll find compadres in the old Sierra Madre
There is a place I know way down in Mexico
Where many an outlaw band from across the Rio Grande
Have found a haven, a holdout, a hideaway
But danger rides with those who stray upon their secret hideaway
Where death is sure to welcome anyone within the law
But if a man must run from any lawman's gun
He'll find compadres in the old Sierra Madre
But if a man must run from any lawman's gun
He'll find compadres in the old Sierra Madre