Billy Gray Rode In The Gantry Back In 83There He Did Meet Young Sarah McRaeThe Wild Rose Of Morning, That Pale Flower Of DawningThe Herald Of Springtime In His Young Life That DaySarah She Could Not See The Daylight Of RealityIn Her Young Eyes Billy Bore Not If AloneKnowing Not A Chosen One He Was A Hired GunWanted Back In Kansas City By The LawThen One Day A Tall Man Came Riding O'er The BadlandsFlying To The North Of New MexicoHe Was Overheard To Say He Was Looking For Bill GrayA Ruthless Man And A Dangerous OutlawAnd The Deadly News Came Creeping To Billy Fast SleepingThere In The Clarendon Byron HotelHe Fled Toward The Old Church Upon The OutskirtsThinking That He'd Climb Up To The Old Steeple BellBut A Rifle Ball Came Flying Face Down He Laid DyingThere In The Dust Of The Road Where He FellSarah She Ran To Him Cursing The Law ManAccepting No Reason Knowing That He Was KilledSarah Lives In That Same Old White Frame HouseWhere She First Met Billy Some Forty Years AgoAnd The Wild Rose Of Morning She Faded With The DawningOf Every Day Of Sorrow That The Long Years Have SownAnd Written On A Stone Where The Dusty Winds Have Long BlownEighteen Words To A Passing World SayTrue Love Knows No Season, No Rhyme, Nor No ReasonJust Us As Cold As The Granger County ClayYes, True Love Knows No Season, No Rhyme, Nor No ReasonJust Us As Cold As The Granger County Clay