Henry stood his rocky ground
as he watched her board the bus,
Not one time did she look back
but he heard her softly cuss
The cold wind; the hard dirt floor;
their drunken neighbor named Gus;
Then the driver crunched the gears
and took off without a fuss.
Down the road and o'er the rise
like there's nowhere else to go,
The dust rose then settled down,
as if it were falling snow.
Could not hear the engine roar
nor see those taillights glow,
Her face now a memory
bound for Desolation Row.
Turned around to face the breeze
and then ambled down the hill,
Thought about the brand new batch
that was brewing in the still.
Might jus' cut a chunk of beef
and then fire up the grill,
Turn the music way up loud;
eat and drink himself a fill.
He knew he'd be lonely soon,
long before this month was done,
Not much left to do 'round here
without a wife or a gun.
He'll get on that internet
ahead of the rising sun,
"Wives for Sale's a click away";
he'll jus' git another one.