Jackie was a punk around the age of 27
When he thought he'd give his bad blood a run.
He stole a silver dollar, spat a curse upon his pa,
And off he set a-carryin' his gun.

This Jack he was known around the town of Carson Gap
As bein' a wild and wooly man.
When he'd pick up an order of whiskey double shot,
It was: Stand there with a fair and tremblin' hand.

And the sound of a train in the cold of the night
Is a sound that tears at my soul.
For whenever I hear a train whistlin' down,
I remeber Jack Dringo.

Jack was gettin' mean and liquored, and his bar bill was unpaid
When he saw my little Peggy at the door.
I swore if he took another step towards my gal,
I'd stretch him out and lay him on the floor.


There are those who do not blame me for doin' what I done,
But the sherrif he's a-lookin' to the law.
When that Jack was a-makin' for my Peggy at the door,
I blasted out his brains and watched him fall.


Now the rest of my story does not have to be told.
It's a story of a man on the run.
Every time I hear a train a-movin' further on,
I know this cursed chase is almost done.