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Little Place In Old Mexico
2 August, 2005
Author: ShyHeart

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I see this tavern, it has been a long run, my thirst over comes me
So, I walk up to the bar, ask for a cold beer, then I look around
I'm the only gringo here, I see men who would cut my throat
Farmers, ranchers, thieves, murderers, there has been a drought here

How, was I to know, to busy on the run for freedom, so, here
I am, in this little old Mexican town, so far from anywhere
This is the place, I searched for, now, what about that cold beer
Then this Mexican walks up to me and says, Senore, you do not belong here

I turn to him and with half a smile I say, I don't belong anywhere
This is as close as I've come, for you see, I'm on the run
I see him, put his blade away as he says, you have had a hard life
Senore, you are welcome here, we understand such a life

As he backs away, she sits my cold beer on the bar, smiles at me
As I drink, I hear a guitar in the corner of the bar, began to play
I finish my beer and start to walk away, back on the run for freedom
Then once again, he walks up to me and says, Senore, we have heard of you

If, you like our beer and the guitar, you may stay with us, like you
We have no place to go, we are all on the run to nowhere so, I say
You are welcome here, I damn near cried as he held out his hand
Senore, you are welcome here, like you, we have no place to go

------- Author's Notes -------

We have yet to share a camp fire, yet I know his heart, as played this song and sent it his friend Wille N. I know both will feel the heart of this as he searches for freedom, just like my brother Ben.

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