Mama said, yes, I could eat on a back step, spaghetti from a can
Well, really it was my Scout mess gear cup, but I liked to pretend
That I was one of them fellas in a song Jimmie Rodgers sang
A tin man, sitting on the back step, waiting for a train

The train let me off in Texas, I drank my whiskey plain
The men were their guns slung low to their hips, but they could see that I was mean
I fired from the hip when he called me a sidewinding cheat
Fella says, "You're good with that thing, boy, but you're in trouble deep

"Could you lead us when we blow up the train? I can tell your fair, but hard."
So I was driven to the outlaw life by whiskey, guns and cards
Holed up in Devil's Canyon, I rode out through a hail of lead
On my trusty old Diablo Negro. "It's just a flesh wound," I said

Shanghai'd in New Orleans, I woke up near Barbados
I was a quiet man, I just kept myself to myself
Until I crossed swords with the captain. His blood, and then his wine they flowed.
And we lived high and dirty till we heard of the liberty war

We turned them red coats redder; the whole crew volunteered
Till Geronimo turned renegade, and we saw our duty clear
Sitting by a campfire, cleaning my trusty old gun, Betsy
Ice ran up my spine, I felt their cold eyes on me

Slowly, slowly, my powder horn, I raised it to the breach
And slowly, slowly poured ... my spaghetti on my knees
Since then, I've been to Texas, and things have got so tame
And they'll never be like they were for the back step tin can man again
They'll never be like they were for the back door tin can man again

Listen on Youtube (with the brilliant accompaniment of Bruce Harvie Thank you, Bruce!)

chords: G, C, D