Beyond the realms of fortuity,
far beneath the realms of death ,
far above what you might call misfortune ,
a woman called serendipity called on me to dance .



Or was it by
fate that I should meet her ,
Or what ever you call love ,
or even Gods will that I should greet her ,
Or forever be outa luck !

But if luck or chance could not save her ,
when she rode outa town ,
her silver spurs a jangling ,
against the evening sundown .

Now lying dead behind her were six ugly. Young  men ,
so I guess serendipity and I were riding  
high again .

So if you ever meet her ,
after we have rode our separate  ways ,
be sure she meets you for a dance ,
If not bring a shovel for you’re grave .