Dusty Keys, he was a man
Who played the old pian’
He tickled and tinkled and trilled
Through brawls and scrums and fights
He played on through the night
Until the fateful day he was killed

Now Dusty had no wife
Free and easy all his life
His fingers were his trade
But when he played that “Jesse James” song
Jesse thought he played it wrong
And shot poor Dusty as he played

Now mean old Jesse James
Had no heart and had no shame
He sure wasn’t no Robin Hood
A lowdown raider was he
For the Confederacy
Not a hair on his hide was good

When he shot Dusty down
The folks all through the town
Wept in sorrow and wept in pain
The keys that Dusty struck
Just when he ran out of luck
From that day have borne forevermore a stain

Now Dusty had no wife
Free and easy all his life
His fingers were his trade
But when he played that “Jesse James” song
Jesse thought he played it wrong
And shot poor Dusty
Shot poor Dusty
Shot poor Dusty as he played

This shirt was designed by: sundbe10, the lowest, orneriest low-down desperado this side of the Rio Adobe.

Wear this shirt: when the chairs are crashing and bottles are breaking around you, and one guy is sliding another guy down the top of the bar, and a bullet’s making a hole in your hat, but you’re playing on.

Don’t wear this shirt: if you go back in time to the real old West. In the 19th century, screenprinting this fine would be considered witchcraft.

This shirt tells the world: “The bills are all due and the piano needs tuned, but I’m dusted.”

We call this color: Ebony and Ivory and Brown.

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