Marty Robbins – Ive Got No Use For The Women (Guitar)

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I've got no use for the women, a true one may seldom 

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be found.

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They'll use a man for his money, when it's gone they'll 

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turn him down.

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They're all alike at the bottom, selfish and grasping 

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for all.

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They'll stay by a man when he's winning, and laugh in 

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his face when he falls.

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My pal was an honest young puncher, honest and upright 

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and true.

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Til he turned to a gun shooting gambler on account of a 

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girl named Lou.

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They fell in with evil companions, the kind they are 

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better off dead.

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When a gambler insulted her picture, he filled him full 

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of lead.

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All through the long night they trailed him, through mesquite 

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and thick chaparral.

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I couldn't help think of that woman, as I saw him pitch and fall.

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If she'd been the pal that she should have, he might have been 

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raising a son.

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Instead of out there on the prairie, to die by a Ranger's gun.

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Death's sharp sting did not trouble, his chances for life were 

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too slim.

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Where they were putting his body was all that worried him.

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He lifted his head on his elbow, the blood from his wound 

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flowed red.

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He gazed at his friends gathered round him, he looked up at 

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them and he said.

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Bury me out on the prairie, where the coyotes can howl o'er 

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my grave.

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Bury me out on the prairie, but from them my bones please save.

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Wrap me up in a blanket, bury me deep in the ground.

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Cover me over with boulders of granite big and round.

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We buried him out on the prairie, where the coyotes can howl 

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o'er his grave.

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His soul is now a-resting from the unkind cut she gave.

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And many another young puncher, as he rides past the pile 

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of stones.

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Recalls some similar woman, and thinks of his mouldering bones.