The Song Of The Seven Inch Cowboy Lyrics by Pain (American Band)
I’m a seven-inch cowboy
With a tiny pair of six guns.
Five’ll get you ten,
I betcha never seen one.
Well I’m a seven inch cowboy
How do you be?
And I’m used to people gawking and a-staring at me
But I wasn’t always so gol-darned wee
Let me tell you my story,
You can listen for free.
For seven long years,
Now that’s a year for every inch I stand
I’ve traveled small and lonely down the byways of this giant land
Like a country western Lilliputian too afraid to stop
I’m at the bottom of the food chain whereas I once was at the top.
I wandered on foot, my horse had done abandoned me
And every town I come to’s like a terrible dream
The other cowboys mocked me and spit tobacco like meteors
Watching me dodge ‘em and laughing at my small squeaky scream
I went to a saloon to get a drink
They wouldn’t serve me
They stuffed me in a glass and slid me up and down the bar
And all the barroom women gathered round and had their way with me
They sang a song both cold and mean
‘Cause that’s how women are,
They sang,
“A man can pan for gold and strike it rich and be a millionaire
Or ride the rodeo and be the best one at it anywhere.
Drive a brand new car, be a movie star
Size is all that counts, and there you are.”
And I’m a seven-inch cowboy
With a tiny pair of six guns
Five’ll get you ten
I bet you never seen one
(Yodeling)
Now as you can imagine, I’d grown pretty bitter
(Although that’s the only way in which I had grown)
And in that seventh year I finally found my transgressor,
The man who had shrunk me, the worst fiend I’d ever known.
The mad Professor Mentley was his name and I drew near
I hopped upon his shoulder and I grabbed him by the ear
I held my little pistols up and I told ‘im, “Look a-here!
You made me this way, it’s time you pay, you gol-darned queer!”
And the professor said, “Wait! Wait!
Now you know me, and I know you
And you know that strange experiments are just what I do
It’s less like a pastime and
With a tiny pair of six guns.
Five’ll get you ten,
I betcha never seen one.
Well I’m a seven inch cowboy
How do you be?
And I’m used to people gawking and a-staring at me
But I wasn’t always so gol-darned wee
Let me tell you my story,
You can listen for free.
For seven long years,
Now that’s a year for every inch I stand
I’ve traveled small and lonely down the byways of this giant land
Like a country western Lilliputian too afraid to stop
I’m at the bottom of the food chain whereas I once was at the top.
I wandered on foot, my horse had done abandoned me
And every town I come to’s like a terrible dream
The other cowboys mocked me and spit tobacco like meteors
Watching me dodge ‘em and laughing at my small squeaky scream
I went to a saloon to get a drink
They wouldn’t serve me
They stuffed me in a glass and slid me up and down the bar
And all the barroom women gathered round and had their way with me
They sang a song both cold and mean
‘Cause that’s how women are,
They sang,
“A man can pan for gold and strike it rich and be a millionaire
Or ride the rodeo and be the best one at it anywhere.
Drive a brand new car, be a movie star
Size is all that counts, and there you are.”
And I’m a seven-inch cowboy
With a tiny pair of six guns
Five’ll get you ten
I bet you never seen one
(Yodeling)
Now as you can imagine, I’d grown pretty bitter
(Although that’s the only way in which I had grown)
And in that seventh year I finally found my transgressor,
The man who had shrunk me, the worst fiend I’d ever known.
The mad Professor Mentley was his name and I drew near
I hopped upon his shoulder and I grabbed him by the ear
I held my little pistols up and I told ‘im, “Look a-here!
You made me this way, it’s time you pay, you gol-darned queer!”
And the professor said, “Wait! Wait!
Now you know me, and I know you
And you know that strange experiments are just what I do
It’s less like a pastime and