He drank whiskey for his liver
smoked cigarettes for his lungs
He loved women for his ego
he died a rounder at twenty-one

He never worked down at the saw mill
he couldn't stand that hot sunshine
He had twenty-one years of real life
he lived a thousand in that time

One night when the blues had got him
he must have drank three fifths of rum
He got mean as hell when I told him
he'd never live past twenty-one

Well if a man ever hit me harder
well I don't know where or when
He picked me up off that old bar floor
he said I'd like to be your friend

One night I heard him talkin'
to an old man at the bar
He said Dad, you know I love you,
I just don't like where you are

Tell Mama to turn my light on,
turn down my feather bed
I'll be twenty-one tomorrow
but tomorrow he was dead.

It was twenty-one miles to the graveyard
twenty-one roses red
Told the story of the rounder
who at twenty-one he was dead

He drank whiskey for his liver
smoked cigarettes for his lungs
He loved women for his ego
he died a rounder at twenty-one.