Standin' by your window in pain,
A pistol in your hand,
And I beg you, dear Molly, girl,
Try and understand your man the best you can.

Across the great divide,
Just grab your hat, and take that ride
Get yourself a bride,
And bring your children down to the river side.

I had a goal in my younger days,
I nearly wrote my will
But I changed my mind for the better,
I'm at the still, had my fill and I'm fit to kill
Pinball machine, and a queen,
I nearly took a bust
Tried to keep my hands to myself, ya say it's a must,
But who can ya trust?
Harvest moon shinin' down from the sky,
A weary sign for all
I'm gonna leave this one horse town,
Had t' stall till the fall, now I'm gonna crawl!

Now Molly dear, don't ya shed a tear
Your time will surely come,
You'll feed your man chicken ev'ry Sunday,
Now tell me, hon, what-cha done with the gun
Across the great divide,
Just grab your hat, and take that ride
Get yourself a bride,
And bring your children down to the river side.

Writer : ROBERTSON, ROBBIE
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.