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Mescal is free in Amanda's saloon for the boys from the old Broken HoleSaturday nights in the town of Sonora are the best in all MexicoThey've got guitars and trumpets and sweet senoritas who won't want to let you go You'd never believe such a happy town had a street called Sonora's death rowInside Amanda's we were all dancing with six of Amanda's galsI won some silver at 7-card stud so I was outdoing my palsBut the whiskey and mescal and peso cigars drove me outside for some air Somebody whispered "Your life or your money," I reached but my gun wasn't thereI woke up face down in Amanda's back alley, aware of the fool I had beenRushed to a saddle and grabbed someone's rifle and entered Amanda's againWhere I saw my partners twirling my pistol and throwing my money aroundBlinded by anger, I jacked the lever and one of them fell to the groundAmanda's got silent like night in the desert, my friends stared in pure disbeliefAmanda was kneeling beside the dead cowboy plainly expressing her griefAnd as I bowed my head a tremble shot through me, my pistol was still at my sideI felt my pockets and there was my money, I fell to my knees and I criedA nightmare of mescal was all that it was, no one had robbed me at allI wish I was dreaming the sound of the gallows they're testing just outside the wallAnd the mescal's still free in Amanda's saloon for the boys from the old Broken Hole I'd pay a ransom to drink there today and be free of Sonora's death row From Letras Mania