I'll s [A] ing you a true song [E] of Billy the Kid, I'll s [A] ing of the desperate [E] deeds that he did, [A] out in New Mexico l [D] ong time ago, when a m [E] an's only chance was his own fo [A] rty-four. When B [A] illy the Kid was a [E] very young lad, in [A] old Silver City he [E] went to the bad, way o [A] ut in the West with a [D] gun in his hand, at the [E] age of twelve years, he killed his fir [A] st man. Fair M [A] exican maidens play [E] guitars and sing, a s [A] ong about Billy, their [E] boy bandit king, who [A] re his young man-hood had [D] reached its sad end, had a n [E] otch on his pistol for twenty-one [A] men. Twas [A] on the same night, when [E] poor Billy died, he [A] said to his friends, "I am [E] not satisfied, tw [A] enty-one men I have [D] put bullets through, Sh [E] eriff Pat Garrett must make twenty [A] -two." Now th [A] is is how Billy the [E] Kid met his fate, the br [A] ight moon was shining, the [E] hour was late, shot d [A] own by Pat Garrett, who [D] once was his friend, the yo [E] ung outlaw's life had now come to its [A] end. There's m [A] any a man with [E] a face fine and fair, who st [A] arts out in life with a [E] chance to be square, but j [A] ust like poor Billy, he [D] wanders astray, and l [E] oses his life in the very same [A] way.