I once knew a preacher who was tall quiet and lean
And on his hip he wore a gun like none I'd ever seen
When challenged by a fast gun he would beg him not to draw
Then the gun would leap into his hand and fire before he saw
The heartline special ran true to it's name
The bullet was pushed forward by an orange streak of flame
And just before the death each man would get his just reward
And to this day I think it was the right hand of the Lord
His reputation spread around like the charge of a brigade
And it fell upon the ears of the artists of the trade
And fast gun-slingers rode for miles and came in by the score
They were there to try to be the man that killed the man that wore
The heartline special ran true to it's name...
At night down on his bended knees with tears upon his face
He'd beg the Lord to send another man to take his place
When challenged by a gunman his Bible he would kiss
And it seemed to guide the hand that held the gun that never missed
The heartline special ran true to it's name...
And to this day I think it was the right hand of the Lord
