There's smoke in the hills And prints on the path The moon dangles down on the hyena's laugh And there are riders with guns by their sides The wagon train's full of women and hides The men drink and smoke to help pass the time Men have their thoughts and plans to decide And the dust brings the thirst to the mouths open wide The wagon train leaves the hills As the gold hits the fever The wagon train tips the scales Wagon train you can keep her
There's gold in them hills It's treasure to claim A ghost in the hillside calls out my name In the wind a roar as the tumbleweed tumbles The rocks cast a shadow where the horses have stumbled And we light up a flame as the sky above rumbles Like the bellies that feast on a meal that is humble And the rain slashing down as I shave off my stubble
There's arrows that fly As guns start to shoot There's mud in your eye and stones in your boot With wagons on fire and women left screaming Some left for dead and others left bleeding There's nothing left now and nothing worth keeping The treasure was trapped and sprung when in sleeping Not even the wind from the rocks is left breathing
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