Marshall Blake's Boy
I remember it like yesterday, the day they deputized him.
Ninety percent of the town turned out to take the happening in.
Jim's boy, Matt, had grown to be a strapping fine young lad,
and on that day, he’d wear a badge of courage like his dad.
Jim Blake had been the Marshall for nigh on twenty years.
He'd seen the smiles of Cimarron and he'd seen her tears.
The outlaws came and went, and Jim Blake faced them all;
and as men cast their shadows, Jim's was mighty tall.
Jim's boy Matt, the new deputy, wore his badge with pride.
He sauntered thru the saloon with an easy manly stride.
He set down at a table at the far end of the bar.
Innocence shone from his face and his new tin star.
Matt ordered whiskey straight, as the doors swung open wide.
There stood an angry stranger, steel hangin' at his side.
He called John Lucas out and growled "Lucas draw your gun."
"Right here's the end of the line; there ain't nowhere to run."
Matt stepped in to break it up. He knew John couldn't win.
Someone yelled for the Marshall and as Jim Blake walked in,
the gunfire roared then smoked. Matt Blake had been shot dead.
His first day on the job he’d bought a bullet in the head.
When the gun smoke finally cleared Jim knelt down at Matt's side.
A grown man doesn't cry, but a tear fell from his eye.
His son lay in his arms, dead and cold as stone.
Jim had felt alone before, but this was more alone.
I remember it like yesterday, the day they deputized him
He stood there tall as he received his brand-new badge of tin
Jim's boy, Matt, was a good boy and everybody's friend.
It was a bad day in Cimarron, the day Matt's life would end.