It waword. Down Tucson way there's an old cafe Where they play a country tune; The guitar picker was a friend of mine By the name of Randy Boone. Well, Randy played her a sweet love song, And Della got a fire in her eye: The Dealer had a gun, and the dog had a knife, And the cat had a shot of rye. Well, the Dealer was a killer, he was evil and mean, And he was jealous of the fire in her eye; He snorted his coke through a century note, And he swore that Boone would die. Well, the stage was (theguitarguy.com)