A young man rode with his head held high,

Under the Texas sun,

And no one guessed,

That a man so blessed,

Would perish by the gun,

Lord, would perish by the gun.



A shot rang out like a Southern shout,

And Heaven held its breath,

For a man shot down,

In a Southern town,

In the summer of his years,

Yes, the summer of his years.



And we who stay mustn't ever lose,

The victories that he's won,

For wherever