DESCRIPTION:
"The Last Gunfighter Ballad" written by Guy Clark. Recorded by Guy Clark and Waylon jennings (providing vocal harmony) on Guy Clarks 1976 album (Original release)"Texas Cookin' and 1997's "The Essential Guy Clark"...lyrics...

Now the old gunfighter on the porch stared into the sun
And relived the days of livin' by the gun
When deadly games of pride were played
Livin' was mistakes not made
And the thought of the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Ah, the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke

And he can almost feel the weight of the gun
And as always, keep your back to the sun
And it's faster than snakes or the blink of an eye
It's a time for all slow men to die
And his eyes get squinty and his fingers twitch
And he empties his gun at the son of a bitch
And he's hit with the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Hit with the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke

And the burn of bullets is only a scar
And he's back in his chair in front of the bar
And the streets are empty and the blood's all dried
And the dead are dust and the whiskey's inside
So buy him a drink, lend him an ear
He's nobody's fool and the only one here
Who remembers the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Remember the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke

He said, I stood in that street before it was paved
Learned shoot or be shot before I could shave
I did it all for the money and fame
And noble was nothing but feelin' no shame
And nothing was sacred save stayin' alive
And all that I learned from a Colt.45
Was to curse the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke
Curse the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke

Now he's just an old man that no one believes
Says he's a gunfighter, the last of the breed
And there's ghost's in the street seeking revenge
Calling him out to the lunatic fringe
Now he's out in the traffic, checkin' the sun
And he's killed by a car as he goes for his gun
So much for the smell of the black powder smoke
And a stand in the street at the turn of a joke
So much for the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke