The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: One of Us Is Riding Home

Wooden crosses to the ridge He runs the rows, hat in his fist Mouthing every board he passes Every soldier on the list He finds Arch Stanton's board Claws at it bare-handed I drop a shovel at his knees Let him think it's his Every one of us came to kneel At a grave that says Unknown The gold don't care who buried it Or who carries it home Angel Eyes comes over the rise Pale as a Sunday collar, slow I scratch a word on a flat gray stone And set it where they'll have to go Nobody slept last night Coals burned down to gray Tuco kept his gun in his lap I let it lay Every one of us came to kneel At a grave that says Unknown The gold don't care who buried it Or who carries it home Stone floor round as a silver dollar Graves climbing every side Three of us and a rock in the middle Each of us deciding who dies Tuco wipes his palm across his shirt Angel Eyes won't blink I never look at the rock He folds back into an open grave Tuco pulls on an empty gun I emptied it beside the coals Every one of us came to kneel At a grave that says Unknown One of us went in the ground One of us is riding home Tuco on a cross with his hands tied back Half a mile out I turn in the saddle One shot. The rope parts clean His cussing chases me over the hill Then the wind fills in my tracks