So I searched the country everywhere, knowing well my time would come.
One day I met a wise guy who knew my pal full well.
He said he was in ’Frisco and living mighty swell.
The girl had died in Denver of consumption, so he said,
Where my former pal had left her to starve from want of bread.
It happened at a time, boys, when I didn’t have a cent;
So I beat my way to Frisco with my mind on vengeance bent.
One foggy day on Market Street I met him sure as fate;
He tried to get the drop on me, but was a moment late.
I sent a bullet crashing into the traitor’s brain,