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Maybe some fifty years back, give or take nine or ten
In a one horse town, Owen was the burro
For many a year he rode with the wild bunch, that he did
Never could get enough whiskey wisdom for old Owen
Even got some schoolin in Old Mexico
Most said that he had been doing it since he was a kid

Courthouse records showed that he had taken ten brides
Owen would only "fess" up to nine
Then one day he finally saw the light
It was the straight and narrow, no more wild rides
I think the last bride made him walk the line
Had a long talk with The Good Lord every night

Took regular employment at the old Gem Grocery Store
Get all slicked up, white shirt and tie
Was the butcher to the bag boy, wore a long white apron
Pretty much did it all, swept the peanut shells off the floor
Had a grin a mile wide, hated to hear a baby cry
Did not gossip, but kept up with the "goins on"

The rancher's wives loved Old Owen, give him their shopping list
A saloon just down the street, the rancher's would have a few
Owen was their lookout, he remembered his past
Filling the wives groceries bags, keeping them happy without a doubled fist
Owen's way of keeping tranquility between the two
He was an angel, just praying it would last

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