By a blackened wood stove
In a rundown old bunkhouse
Sat an old buckaroo
With his hat in his hand
He lowered his voice
As he told us about them
The wild western women
That wore no man's brand
He remembered how
They'd drive you plum crazy
Dancing for nickels
Neath the barrooms oil lights
"We'd come off the trail
They'd be waiting for us
Pretty painted ladies
In dresses so bright
Where are all
The pretty painted ladies?
Where's all my dance hall gals?
Where are you Lil?
Are you still young and pretty
And a waiting for me
At the end of my trail?
Slowly they'd swirl
With the ranchers and wranglers
While the piano played
On into the night
Just a kicking their skirts
Past the lonely rawhiders
Pretty painted ladies
I miss you tonight"
I told the old timer
They moved off a long time ago
Ain't no more pretty Lil, old man
No Buffalo Sal
He said, "Son
Some nights I can see them
Just a singing and a dancing
At the end of my trail
Oh, where are all
The pretty painted ladies?
Where's all my dance hall gals?
Where are you Lil?
Are you still young and pretty
Just a waiting for me
At the end of my trail?"