She was born a slave somewhere back east
she said it was Hickman County, Tennessee
Somehow she’d learned to read and write
though she’d spent her childhood in captivity

She traveled to Montana along with a pack of nuns
but quickly learned she was better meant for fight’n
Over six foot tall and more’n two hundred pounds
and a six shooter she could draw as fast as light’n

A ball of fire she was and stood out solid
against most other cowboys out here in the west
She had battering rams for hands and arms
Always a bottle of whisky in the pocket of her vest

She came to fame one day when a green cowpoke
said no black woman was gonna to be his better
She’d already fisted him down when he went for his gun
got a hole in his chest before it’d even cleared leather

In her left hand she could hold the reigns of six
of the orn’riest horses you’d ever knew
while holding a shotgun in the other she
would keep the stagecoach runnin’ smooth

But when it came time for helpin’ out the town
be hard findin’ a better person even in a dream
one who could shoot, fight and out drink most all
but give half her pay to sponsor the local baseball team

She could be mean at times and cantankerous
for sure and yes sir, she could even be a little scary
Specially if you was stupid enough to try to steal
from anything driven by ‘Stagecoach Mary’