Belle Of The Black Horse Saloon
by La Belle Rouge

On Sunday the Preacher called me a Floozy
cause I work at the Black Horse Saloon
But when he's in my arms Saturday night
he's a callin me “Darlin” right soon
Tell me, what's a poor woman left to do
when she's lost everything she ever had?
Mama told me to my own self be true
but I guess my own self must be bad

Thank God I was born with a pretty face
and a wild mane of long, curly, red hair
Assets like them fit in most anyplace
Should a found a good payin job anywhere
I painted portraits but the noses looked like
ugly dogs, fat pigs, old horses and such
or ugly women who'd been in and lost a fight
Most customers didn't like my portraits much

I took in laundry and became a school marm
while the world just passed me on by
The shirts was still dirty and parents alarmed
when my teachin made their younguns cry
So you see, I didn't have no choice a'tal
The Black Horse or bone orchard it had to be
I'm waitin for my cowboy who'll come to call
and make an honest woman outa me

But in the meantime you can find me here
at the Black Horse in room number four
Lonely gents carrying too much beer
and fifty cents feel free to knock on my door
If your picture's in the post office in town
don't worry, I'm a lady got a heart of gold
and I won't never rat you out or let you down
for fifty cents extra not a thing will be told