Chico Fernandez
Sleeping on his guns
Shot rare coins for practice
Map to the fortune, hidden up under the mattress
A lead belt attaches with holsters
Waiting area, two blazing toasters
Hit the stage coach on stallions
Looking for Federal Reserve notes and gold medallions
Heavily pursued by the local governor, a southerner
Sought after by the whole battalion
Fell out a snake within the handshake
Get the drop on them then he exploited the mistake
Protecting his gold he sold by the plates
Ready to shoot while his horses drank from the lake
Deputy saved by the badge on the blazer
A warning shot from one that had the aim of a laser
Trait by the neighbor a gambler
Who would stack the deck, plus he marked cards wit a razor
Chico Fernandez
Sleepin' on his gun
Dreams of Santa Anna
Fighting in the sun
Drums so loud from outside
Makes it hard to dream
A rain is fallin’ hard and fast
Makes it all seem real
Mornin’, come mornin’
A Chico’s gotta have his share
Mornin’, sad mornin’
What a laugh, and I cried
And I cry, cry, cry, cry, cried
He used to move weight but then became a grower
Constricted boa, the most of Sinaloa
Cooperating along in mining zones
For mostly silver and other shining stones
Abandoned political rebel
He moved with a group of pistolevils flashing heavy metals
Clash with the law triggered intense reactions
Hard labor gave them multiple contractions
Lawmen turned to outlaw, gunfighter cattle rustlers
Hustlers ruff riders useless connections
Everything traversal
Cross stone socio-economic circles
Señorita pining
Chico come on home
Santa Anna’s losing
You’ll be first to go
Sam Houston’s laughing
Davy Crockett too
When Anna takes the Alamo
The first to go is you
Mornin’, come mornin’
A Chico’s gotta have his share
Mornin’, sad mornin’
Heaven will be there
Mornin’, sad mornin’
What a laugh and out loud
Ha ha ha ha ha