Juan Martha

They said he was carrying the devil
Lies, he had nothing on him
What he had on his waist
Was a .45 pistol

He robbed and killed people
Because that’s how he had his fun
His head had a price on it
Fifteen grand was what he was worth

Juan Martha was tough
And feared by the government
The cops were scared of him
Like he was poison

His poor mother cried
Cried and told him
If they set my son free
I’d pay fifteen grand

Don’t cry anymore, mom
Don’t offer them anything
When I get to that hill
I’ll laugh at the deal

Don’t cry anymore, mom
Stop tormenting me
For every hundred lives I owe
I’m paying with one

Tonight with the Moon
And tomorrow with the Sun
They’re gonna take my life
By the love of God

With this, I say goodbye
But I leave you a letter
So you can keep singing
The ballad of Juan Martha