Date: 2/25/99
From:"Brooks" bmbzb@flash.net
Subject: Robert Earl Keen, Jr.: Billy Grey

Billy Grey as performed by Robert Earl Keen
appearing on the album Walking Distance
originally written by Norman Blake.
Transcribed by Brooks Blake (no relation).

Intro: D G D A (Asus-A)  G D A D (Dsus-D)
(chords in parenthesis may be added if you like)

D                           G            D          A
(Asus-A)
Billy Grey rode into Gantry,  back in eightythree,

G                  D                           A (Asus-A)
There he did meet young Sarah McCray.

D                        G            D               A
(Asus-A)
This wild rose of morning, pale flower dawning,

G             D                   A
D (Dsus-D)
Herold of springtime in his young life that day.

                         G
D                   A (Asus-A)
Sarah she could not see the daylight of reality.

    G                            D              A (Asus-A)
In her young eyes Billy bore not a flaw.

D                       G               D          A
(Asus-A)
Not knowing her chosen one was a hired gun,

G             D           A              D (Dsus-D)
Wanted in Kansas City by the law.

-instrumental part:

D G D A (Asus-A) G D A (Asus-A) D G D A (Asus-A) G D A D
(Dsus-D)

D G D A (Asus-A) G D A (Asus-A) D G D A (Asus-A) G D A D
(Dsus-D)

[a second guitar may play  a "D" for D a "Dsus" for G and
"Ddim" for A]


Then one day a tall man, came riding 'cross the bad lands,
That lie to the north of New Mexico.
He was overheard to say he was lookin' for Billy Grey,
A ruthless man and a dangerous outlwaw.
The deadly news came creeping, while billy lay sleeping,
There in the Claredon Bar and Hotel.
He headed for the old church, there on the outskirts,
Thinking to climb the old steeple bell.
A rifle ball came flying, face down he lay dying,
There in the dust of the road where he fell.
Sarah came to him, cursing the lawman,
Accepting no reason, just knowing he was killed.



Sarah lives in the same old white frame house
Where she first met Billy some forty years ago.
The wild rose of morning had faded with the dawning
Of each day of sorrow the long years had sown.
There on the stone where the dusty winds had long blown,
Were eighteen words to a passing world say:
"True love knows no season, no rhyme nor no reason,
Justice is cold as the Grainger county clay."