billy gray rode into gantry back in 83 there he did meet young sarah mccray the wild rose of morning that pale flower of dawning herald of springtime in his young life that day sarah she could not see the daylight of reality in her young eyes billy bore not a flaw knowing not her chosen one was a hired gun wanted in kansas city by the law then one day a tall man came riding cross the badlands that lie to the north of new mexico he was overheard to say he was lookin for bill gray a ruthless man and a dangerous outlaw well the deadly news came creepin to billy fast sleepin there in the clarendon bar and hotel he fled towards the old church there on the outskirts thinking he d climb that old steeple bell but a rifle ball came flying face down he lay dying there in the dust of the road where he fell sarah she ran to him cursing the lawman accepting no reason knowing he was killed sarah lives in that same old white frame house where she first met billy some forty years ago and the wild rose of morning has faded with the dawning of each day of sorrow the long years have sown written on a stone where the dusty winds have long blown eighteen words to a passing world say true love knows no season no rhyme nor no reason justice is cold as the granger county clay 