The Queen of the Mojave Desert
The old man lived out by the desert, selling postcards and gasoline,
He sold road-maps and Navajo silver, and True West magazine.
And under his Gabby Hays beard beat the heart of a dashing young man;
With arthritic fingers he cleaned off my windshield…he once was a Dapper Dan.
He said “Take care on the desert, carry plenty water to spare—
And look out for mirages that float like a dream—there’s all kinds of dangers out there.
“And you better watch out for that sweet senorita, the travelers all agree…
They call her the Queen of the Mojave Desert…but she once belonged to me,
Yes, she once belonged to me…”
I thought the old man was demented, from too many years in the sun;
But there in his gas station office I noticed a Winchester gun…
And I saw a faded brown photo—a Mexican beauty was she…
Right next to a newspaper clipping…about a murder in 1953…
Then later that night on the desert, my car overheated and died—
And I saw the Queen of the Mojave Desert…with a bullet hole gaping wide!
So I hoofed it on back to the station, ‘left my automobile behind…
And that grizzled gas station attendant, he told me one final time—
“You’d better look out for that sweet senorita, the travelers all agree,
They call her the Queen of the Mojave Desert…but she once belonged to me,
She was unfaithful to me…back in 1953…she was unfaithful to me...”
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