When Ben Jones fell under Yankee lead,
Ben Jones left a witter.
A lovely thing just turned eighteen
who couldn't help but be bitter.
He didn't leave for nothing but a cabin
and some fiddles
and some old black taxis
On twenty -five acres of sandy soil
In the middle of Texas
Now Witter Jones said, Benny's gone
It ain't no use in me cryin'
So Witter Jones went into town
And started drinkin' some wine
She told the strangers all around the bar
That she was all alone
And that she'd give her land
to the very first man
who would take her home
Well, the next morning found a tall,
dark stranger
looking over his new land
Said, what good is twenty
-five scrawny acres
when you can't get grass to stand?
He went back inside
and told the widder Jones
she'd made a fool out of him
And he laid Witter Jones' dying bones
Near their twenty -five acres of sand
Now a hundred years has come and gone
And Witter Jones is forgotten
The tall, dark stranger died in chains
In San Quentin's dark bottom
But poor fools, they let their hearts be ruled
Of passion, greed, and malice
Cause today that 25 acres of sand
is sittin' in the middle of Dallas
It's sittin' in downtown Dallas