Nikolai Stevens - Poor Billy Poor

Billy Poor was a rider for the Pony Express
Bringing letters and silver across the old west
Poor Billy Poor was just doing his best
When old Moses Black put that hole in his chest
Billy was riding his paint good and hard
To ride the frontier was no soft handed job
He knew the importance of the task that he had
Love letters, good money, potions curing the bad
Took a break from the sprint to rest lead heavy eyes
A choice that would prove to be his fateful demise
Waking up to a gunshot with a chest red and torn
Only eighteen years old he'd die one forlorn
Found mangled like roadkill and cold to the bone
There's a tear on his cheek that froze there alone
And those letters of love take the cold winter breeze
One lay in his hand for the girl of his dreams
Billy Poor was a rider for the Pony Express
Bringing letters and silver across the old west
Poor Billy Poor was just doing his best
When old Moses Black put that hole in his chest

Written by:
Nikolai Stevens

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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