The cowpoke has been in the saddle for a long time
Bi-passing a lot of towns, staying in the hills living off the land
But he had grown weary of coyotes, and sidewinders for mediation
Maybe this town would be different he earned the right, he shed his blood
The drifter pushed open the saloon doors
Just one drink to cut the dust out of his throat
One drink and he'd head back to the hills
He earned at least one drink
He saddled on up to the bar
The hall had grown quiet before he made it half way
One shot of your best whiskey, and a glass of cold beer he said to the bar keep
As he flipped a gold coin on the bar
The bar keep eyed the drifter, the way his gun hung low on his hip
The coat on his back, the way he carried his rifle, the look in his eye
The barkeep looked at the man for a minute, and then the gold coin on the counter
Then he said, " One shot of the best whiskey and a cold beer coming right up."
The barkeep placed the drinks in front of the man
The drifter picked up the shot glass of whiskey, but before he could raise it to his lips
A voice from behind him said we don't serve your kind in here
You best leave those drinks on the bar and get the Hell out of here before you find yourself on a tree
The man turned around to see who was telling him he didn't have a right, but he knew what he looked like before he even turned around-He had been seeing them all his life, and they all looked the same-He looked the man in the eye as he threw back the buffalo coat covering his Colt 45.-He thought about the last Indian he had killed with his knife as they fought in hand-to hand combat, " Why do you fight for the `Blue Eyes when you know they hate you more than me?"
The drifter thought about that as he threw back the hot whiskey down his throat-never taking his eyes off the man or the room, as he grabbed his beer and finished it in two huge gulps. He told the Indian as he lay dying as he pulled out his knife, I fight because I'm an American-As he walked passed the man who told him he couldn't be served he said to him, I can drink here because I'm an American, I've fought for my country, I've killed for my country, and if you're ready to die for your country, you try to put me on a tree, because I've earned the right to walk through the front door.