Alone and afraid she prayed that he'd return that fateful night, aww that night
When nothin' she said could keep her man from goin' out to fight
From the moment a girl gets to be full-grown the very first thing she learns
When two men go out to face each other only one returns

 

Everyone heard two shots ring out, a shot made Liberty fall
The man who shot Liberty Valance, he shot Liberty Valance
He was the bravest of them all.

The man who shot Liberty Valance,
he shot Liberty Valance
He was the bravest of them all.

NEXT!

Good sense, innocence, cripplin' and kind.
Dead kings, many things I can't define.
Oh Cajun spice, sweats and blushers your mind.
Incense and peppermints, the color of thyme.

 

Who cares what games we choose?
Little to win but nothin' to lose

Incense and peppermints, meaningless nouns
Turn on, tune in, turn your eyes around

 

Look at yourself, look at yourself,
Yeah, yeah.
Look at yourself, look at yourself,
Yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah.

 

Tune-a by the cockeyed world in two.
Throw your pride to one side, It's the least you can do.
Beatniks and politics, nothing is new.
A yardstick for lunatics, one point of view.

Who cares what games we choose?
Little to win, but nothing to lose.

 

Good sense, innocence, cripplin' mankind
Dead kings, many things I can't define
Occasions, persuasions clutter your mind
Incense and peppermints, the color of time

 

Who cares what games we choose?
Little to win, but nothing to lose.

Incense, peppermints, incense, peppermints.

Sha-la-la, sha-la-la....



It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished `em well
You could see that Pierre did truly love the mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur and madam have rung the chapel bell
C'est la vie say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell

 

They furnished off an apartment with a two room Roebuck sale
The coolerator was crammed with TV dinners and ginger ale,
But when Pierre found work, the little money comin' worked out well
"C'est la vie", say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell

 

They had a hi-fi phono, boy did they let it blast
Seven hundred little records, all blues, rock, rhythm, and jazz
But when the sun went down, the volume went down as well
C'est la vie say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell

 

They bought a souped up jitney, 'twas a cherry red '53
They drove it down to New Orleans to celebrate their anniversary
It was there that Pierre was wedded to the lovely mademoiselle
"C'est la vie," say the old folks, "It goes to show you never can tell"