I got off the riverboat in New Orleans in the spring of 82,
I walked into a gambling house as gamblers often do.
I had myself a drink, and I joined in a poker game,
the dealer was a woman, so I asked her for her name.
She smiled at me so pretty, but a hush fell over the place,
as a big man crossed the table, stood up and slapped my face.
Bowie knife, bowie knife, long, glitterin' steel,
if my gun don't take your evil life,
you can bet, my bowie knife will.
I had my choice of weapons on which would depend my life,
I chose a set of pistols, and a long old bowie knife.
I met him by the river by the light of the rising sun.
Was I prepared to fight him? I feared my time had come.
Bowie knife, bowie knife, long, glitterin' steel,
if my gun don't take your evil life,
you can bet, my bowie knife will.
As we stood back to back there on the doolin' green,
I cursed the fate that had brought me to the town of New Orleans.
The referee started counting the paces one by one,
when I heard him say twenty, I turned and fired my gun.
I knew at once I'd missed and I waited there in fear, as
the stranger aimed and fired, but the bullet went by my ear.
He threw away his pistol and drew his bowie knife,
I knew that razor edge would soon snap off my life.
But somehow luck was with me and my weapon found his side,
he lay there on the doolin' ground, then he cursed me as he died.
Bowie knife, bowie knife, long, glitterin' steel,
if my gun don't take your evil life,
you can bet, my bowie knife will.
you can bet my bowie knife will,
you can bet my bowie knife will.
compositores: EDWARD TRUMAN, MIKE OATMAN
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