Billy Gray rode into Gantry back in '83.
There he did meet young Sarah McRae,
The wild rose of morning, that pale flower of dawning,
Herald of springtime in his young life that day.
Sarah she could not see the daylight of reality.
In her young eyes Billy bore not a flaw.
Knowing not her chosen one was a hired gun,
Wanted in Kansas City by the law.
Then one day a tall man came riding 'cross the Badlands
Lying to the north of New Mexico.
He was overheard to say he was looking for Bill Gray,
A ruthless man and a dangerous outlaw.
Well the deadly news came creeping to Billy, fast sleeping,
There in the Clarendon Bar and Hotel.
He fled toward the old church there on the outskirts
Thinking he'd climb to that old steeple bell.
But a rifle ball came flying, face down he lay dying
There in the dust of the road where he fell.
Sarah she ran to him, just cursing the lawman,
Accepting no reason, knowing he was killed
Sarah lives in that same old white frame house
Where she first met Billy some forty years ago.
And the wild rose of morning, she's faded with the dawning
With each day of sorrow the long years have sown.
And written on a stone where the dusty winds have long blown
Eighteen words to a passing world say:
"True love knows no season, no rhyme, nor no reason.
Justice is cold as the Granger County clay."
Yes "True love knows no season, no rhyme, nor no reason.
Justice is cold as the Granger County clay"