[Verse 1] Oh gather in close I’ll sing ye a tale Of a lad they called Bovino Too small for the scale He stood on a crate just to glare at the crew But his boots barely touched where a man’s heels do [Chorus] Oh Greg Bovino Wee Greg Bovino Smaller than the stories that he likes to crow They measured his mettle They measured his spine Came up three hands short of the rebel line Back down the road where the hot winds blow They shipped tiny Greg back to El Centro [Verse 2] He swaggered and shouted “I’ll be your great chief!” But you can’t wear the crown if you look like the leaf They stacked up the rulers They stacked up the cans He still couldn’t stare level with the workmen’s hands [Chorus] Oh Greg Bovino Wee Greg Bovino Smaller than the stories that he likes to crow They measured his mettle They measured his pride He missed by a mile and an inch each side Back down the road where the hot winds blow They shipped tiny Greg back to El Centro [Bridge] They weighed his word They weighed his worth They weighed his boots and his little girth A feather A pint And a broken pen Outweighed the lad by the count of ten (hey!) [Chorus] Oh Greg Bovino Wee Greg Bovino Smaller than the stories that he likes to crow They measured his temper They measured his roar Found less than a whisper in a tavern door Back down the road where the hot winds blow They shipped tiny Greg back to El Centro (Back down the road where the hot winds blow) They shipped tiny Greg back to El Centro
