Living on the road my friend, is gonna keep you free and clean.
Now you wear your skin like iron, and your breath is hard as kerosene.
You weren't your mama's only boy, but her favourite one it seems.
She began to cry when you said goodbye, and sank into your dreams.
Pancho was a bandit boy, his horse was fast as polished steel.
He wore his gun outside his pants, for all the honest world to feel.
Pancho met his match, you know, on the deserts down in Mexico.
Nobody heard his dying words