Kyle Evans - Mr. Shorty Lyrics
Nobody knew where he came fromThey only knew he came inSlowly he walked to the end of the barAnd he ordered up one slug of gin.Well, I could see that he wasn't a large manI could tell that he wasn't too tallI judged him to be about five-foot threeAnd his voice was a soft Texas drawl.Said he was needin' some wages'Fore he could ride for the westSaid he could do most all kind of workSaid he could ride with the best.There in his blue eyes was sadnessThat comes from the need of a friendAnd tho' he tried, he still couldn't hideThe loneliness there, deep within.Said he would work thru the winterFor thirty a month and his boardI started to say where he might land a jobWhen a fellow came in thru the door.And I could tell he was lookin' for troubleFrom the way that he came stompin' inHe told me to leave Shorty there by himselfCome down and wait on a man.The eyes of the little man narrowedThe smile disappeared from his faceGone was the friendliness that I had seenAnd a wild look of hate took its' place.But the big one continued to mock himAnd he told me that I'd better goFind him a couple of glasses of milkThen maybe Shorty would grow.When the little man spoke, there was stillnessHe made sure that everyone heardSlowly he stepped away from the barAnd I still remember these words."Oh, it's plain that you're lookin' for troubleTrouble's what I try to shunBut if that's what you want, then that's what you'll get'Cause cowboy, we're both packin' guns!"His hand was already positionedFeet wide apart on the floorI hadn't noticed but there on his hipWas a short-barreled Bad Forty-Four.It was plain he was ready and waitin'He leaned a bit forward and said,"When you call me Shorty, say Mister, my friend -Or maybe you'd rather be dead!"In the room was a terrible silenceAs the big one stepped out on the floorAll drinkin' stopped and the tick of the clockSaid death would wait ten seconds more.Well, he cursed once or twice in a whisperAnd said, with a snarl on his lips,"Nobody's Mister to me, little man!"And he grabbed for the gun on his hip.But the little man's hands was like lightningThe Bad Forty-Four was the sameThe Forty-Four spoke and it sent lead and smokeAnd seventeen inches of flame.Oh, the big one had never cleared leatherBeaten before he could startA little round hole had appeared on his shirtThe bullet went clear thru his heart.The little man stood there a momentThen holstered the Bad Forty-Four"It's always this way, so I never stay."Slowly he walked out the door.Nobody knew where he came fromBut they won't forget he came byThey won't forget how a Forty-Four gunOne night made the difference in size.As for me, I'll remember the sadnessShown in the eyes of the manIf we meet someday, you can bet I would sayThat "It's me, Mr. Shorty, your friend!"
