Bill Hill

Bill Hill

This room is dark, the air is thick
with smoke and smell of swill;
but with us all there sits a man,
the mighty cool Bill Hill.

His barstool is a sacred throne,
his glass is filled at will;
and all behold that handsome man,
the prince who is Bill Hill.

Both virgins and those careless girls
approach him with a thrill;
they crave the heart and love of him,
the beat of sweet Bill Hill.

You heroes here with gold or fame,
or dodging artful skill;
should reckon with that cowboy man,
obstreporous Bill Hill.

He knows the twang of life and death,
he's heard his angel trill;
she sings a hymn of graceful mirth
and joy for her Bill Hill.

One time everyone of us
will fear the time we kill;
and he shall give us comfort then,
the wise and good Bill Hill.

So lift your glass and drink to him,
you know that blessed drill,
and praise the light now flowing from
the eyes of our Bill Hill.