Two men rode in from the south, a rainy autumn night The Sky above and the mud below They walked into the Deacon's bar, they were Mexican by sight The sky above and the mud below They threw a horsehair bridle down, we trade this for whiskey rounds The Deacon slams a bottle down, the two men start to drinkin' Their hair was long and black, tied up behind their ears Their faces were identical, like one man beside a mirror Then someone whispered that beats all, their wanted posters on the wall Twin brothers name of Sandoval, horse thieves from Boquillas Now the bridle and the belts they wore were braided gray and black The color of a roan horse once belonged to Deacon Black The fastest horse for miles around, he'd been stolen from the old fairground A month ago outside of town we tracked and never found him Now the Deacon was a preacher who had fallen hard from grace He owned the bar and a string of quarter horses that he'd race Yea, Deacon he could drink and curse, though he still quoted sacred verse He was sheriff, judge; he owned the hearse, a man you did not anger The sky above, the mud below, the wind and rain, the sleet and snow Two horse thieves from Mexico drinkin' hard and singin' One brother he spoke English, Deac inquires as to their work The man says mister we braid horsehair bridles, ropes and quirts Yea, that fine bridle we did make, a roan horse killed by leg-bone break He's horsehair rope now; horse-meat steak, we cleaned him to the bone Well these gentlemen they were ignorant or didn't know just where they were The Deacon's face grew darker as he measured every word You horsehair braidin' sons oÂ' witches stole my claim to earthly riches Someone go and dig a ditch, there may well be a hangin' One brother reached inside his shirt searching for his gun Too late, for Deac had whipped around his sawed off Remington The twins, they raised their hands and sneered, Deac was grinnin' ear to ear He says court's in session, hear ye hear, yours truly is presidin' Well the trial commenced and ended quick they didn't have a hope Deac says we'll cut your hair now boys and you can braid yourselves a rope The Old Testament, it says somewhere eye for eye and hair for hair Covet not thy neighbors mare, I believe itÂ's Revelations Now the fancy horsehair bridle, it hangs on Deacon's wall Next to that wanted poster of the brothers Sandoval And he twisted rope so shiny black, the artifact that broke their necks Their craftsmanship he did respect, they shoulda stuck to braidin' The sky above the mud below, the wind and rain, the sleet and snow The Deacon's hearse is rollin' slow in the first blue light of mornin'