Bad Blood (V. Stanshall)

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[Gunshots then Western-style music...]

Not long ago in a one-horse town
Down south of Santa Fe,
A one-eyed half-breed amputee
Sat thinkin' of the way
He'd settle the score with that runnin' sore
Who had left him the way he is.
One-armed, half-blind and crippled in his mind
And he, that amputee, could not forgive.

He swore to kill the stranger
For this one bad thing he'd done.
For three long years he'd practiced
Until he could use the gun.
Heart of stone, he lived alone
And he lived on beans and eggs.
Pigs could tell what time it was
By the gravy running down his legs.

Bad blood will drive you crazy.
Bad blood, I've heard men say,
Bad blood is like an egg stain on your chin:
You can lick it but it still won't go away.

Four more years he roamed the land
'Til his legs was worn away.
Then he bummed around from town to town
"Has a stranger passed this way?
"The man I'm lookin' for has two eyes
"But he's a one-breed dirty dog.
"When I find him I'm gonna shoot him -
"I'm really pissed."

The stagecoach jingle-jangled into town
One hot mid-afternoon.
He saw the stranger get off here
At the Seborrhea Saloon.
And just as he was easin' in
A lumberjack rolled out.
He shot him dead then One-eye said:

"Hey you, mutton-head, I've been lookin' for that particular son-of-a-bitch for nearly seven years, man! You've just spoiled everything! I could have been a doctor or an architect!"

Bad blood will drive you crazy.
Bad blood, I've heard men say,
Bad blood is like an egg stain on your chin:
You can lick it but it still won't go away.