Streets Of Laredo

As I walked out in the streets of Laredo
As I walked out in Laredo one day
I spied a young cowboy dressed up in white linen
Dressed in white linen and cold as the clay

His eyes were fast glazing and death was approaching
His white lips were curled and tortured with pain
He spoke in a whisper of a scene far behind him
Of his home in Montana he would never see again

Beat the drum slowly, play the fife lowly
Play the dead march as you carry me along
Take me to the green valley, lay the sod o'er me
For I'm a young cowboy, I know I've done wrong

Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water
To cool my parched lips, the cowboy then said
Before I returned his soul had departed
And gone to the round-up, the cowboy was dead

Beat the drum slowly, play the fife lowly
Play the dead march as