Historical Folk Lyrics
"No Use For The Woman"

Now I've got no use for women,
A true one may never be found;
They use a man for his money,
When it's gone they'll turn him down.
They're all alike at the bottom,
Selfish and grasping for all,
They'll stick by a man while he's winning
And laugh in his face at his fall.

My pal was an honest young puncher,
Honest, upright and true;
But he turned to a hard shooting gunman
On account of a girl named Lou.
He fell in with evil companions,
The kind that are better off dead;
When a gambler insulted her picture
He filled him full of lead.

All through the long night they trailed him,
Through mesquite and thick chaparral;
And I couldn't help think of the woman
As I saw him pitch and fall.
If she'd been the pal that she should have
He might have been raising a son,
Instead of out there on the prairie,
To die by the ranger's gun.
Death's sharp sting did not trouble,
His chances for life were too slim·

But where they were putting his body
Was all that worried him.
He lifted his head on his elbow,
The blood from his wounds flowed red,
He gazed at his pals grouped around him
As he whispered to them and said:

"Oh, bury me out on the prairie
Where the coyotes may howl o'er my grave;
Bury me out on the prairie,
But from them my bones please save.
Wrap me up in a blanket
And bury me deep in the ground,
Cover me over with boulders
Of granite, gray and round."
So we buried him out on the prairie,
Where the coyotes can howl o'er his grave,
And his soul is now a-resting
From the unkind cut she gave.
And many another young puncher
As he rides past that pile of stones,
Recalls some similar woman
And envies his mouldering bones.