Tekstovi: The Residents. From The Plains Of Mexico.

We were lyin' on the prairie, on Slaughter's ranch one night.
With our heads upon our saddles, and a campfire burnin' bright.
Soon we fell to talkin' of distant friends so dear.
When a boy raised up his saddle, and he wiped (brushed) away a tear.

Oh, I fell in love with a neighbor girl, her cheeks were soft and
white.
Another feller loved her too, and it ended in a fight
Oh it makes me shake and shudder to think of that awful night
When Tom and I began to fight, and I stabbed him with my knife.

I fell down on my knees and tried to stop the blood.
That came out from his side all spurtin'
Like some bright red crimson flood.

And now when I am sleepin' I hear him softly say,
Oh Bob, I know your sorry, but I've gone to a better place.
And yes, I guess I believe it, but I just can't let him go
His dyin' eyes are with me, from the plains to Mexico.