Westward Bound

Winter time cold hell drinking from a dry well trying to balance wrong and right

About all the fighting the boys repented of their sins girls got a kiss goodbye

Rich men screaming didn't wanna pay a cent never worked a cotton row

Tricked where the poor boys still lost in the noise we're just dirt for them to throw

Fell out of the regiment held up at the station shot up the whole road back

Deserters hang down here but we can't live in fear can't tell lies from facts

Everywhere the eye can see dead piled as high as trees so they can keep it in the bank

Mother's children crying to help side minded sons a bitches make their rank

The cannons rolled

The muskets fired