Me and my friend Jerry caught a Western Diamondback,
didn't make much trouble once we got her in the sack.
We drove back to Jerry's house and found that recipe,
drowned the snake in mescal, and the rest is history.
Six months later to the day we turned that monster loose,
cinnamon, lime, and venom all distilled in cactus juice.
Jerry opened up that jar and said, "you take the reins."
Pretty soon we had that poison pounding in our veins.
They found us out beside the highway west of Abilene,
they found my car up in a tree all smashed to smithereens.
I still don't remember what the hell those brakes were for;
I ain't drinkin' Rattlesnake Tequila anymore.
We graced every tavern from Del Rio to Juarez,
counted cards in Bossier City, that's what Jerry says.
We chased down some border girls outside of El Paso,
how we made that many miles in one night, I don't know.
They had us cuffed and captured, man, I still don't have a clue
where Jerry got his Mohawk or where I got my tattoo.
We were dancin' for the deputies, and what finally stopped the show
were Jerry's very last words when he said, "don't taze me, bro."
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