Palla, she came from Asteroid B124,
tall and lean and sharp-eyed keen.
Palla, she came from belter stock
two fists a-swingin’ as a knee-high tot:
tough as nails, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

Her daddy drew the spade when she was three,
a hell of a dealt hand to the family tree.
When she was four, her sis went to the black,
and ain’t it a shame, never came back.
But Palla stood her ground, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

She grew up quick next to her mama,
a woman stubborn as a diamond drill,
who don’t take guff from the bosses
and taught Palla to do right by the small:
gold-hearted hero, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

Now if you’re asking yourself how Palla,
a belter from B124, learned to shoot,
the answer is a fella Jim the Slim,
the best damn shot from Libra Prime.
She picked up quick, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

The first trouble she shot ain’t no joke:
see this was back in ‘73, when the belters
went striking to stop the corp store fee.
And when the bosses sent the Reddingtons,
she went swingin’, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

See, we belters don’t take shit lyin’ down,
and Palla’s ours to the blood and the bone.
She punched the first Red ‘til it knocked him low,
then smashed bottles ‘cross his pair o’ pals:
drivin’ ‘em out, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

Now you might mistake it for a friendly scene,
but them Reds on the payroll were mighty mean.
One drew down on Palla with a cold hard stare,
and found himself ventilated to the station air.
Palla’s quick on the draw, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

But on B124, cold hard cash is king,
and mine bosses get them fingers in everythin’.
The first bounty went up on the asteroid scene,
and poor Palla got the hell out of that rocky ring
with Jim the Slim, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

See Jim the Slim was a side-shuffle man,
taking jobs that kept ‘em both on the lam.
Palla kept punchin’ up for the small,
takin’ on all comers, badges and all:
Mama Jones’s kid, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

Runnin’ solar winds as a wanted woman,
Palla, our Palla, met Mur’ak, a Blue,
layin’ track for Libra fancy folk rails:
the best friend a gal could get, tried and true,
she did right by him, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

Mur’ak and his folk were gettin’ the shaft,
working away with no hopes in the gaps,
and Arkalyte Scales got sucking souls
that’d put the shame to a hole of black.
In steps Palla, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

When our Palla put her skin in the game,
riskin’ her hide not for fortune or fame,
she damn near took her daddy’s example
and got an eye blasted out for her trouble:
lucky to be alive, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

Jim the Slim shot the Scale-man down,
and went zig-zagging to the edge of town,
where the Ark’s finest beat him into the dust.
When them Scales got back to the scene,
our Palla gulched ‘em, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

From Mur’ak and his folk she got a new eye,
shiny alien tech with a hard iridium orb,
but the tears came back on her left-hand side,
since in the dust, Jim the Slim up and died:
heartbroke was Palla, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

She couldn’t stay long with Mur’ak and his kind:
Palla’d shot their trouble and pulled the heat,
but a gal’s got to wonder in the black all alone:
what good’s a life when it all ends in lead?
But Palla kept goin’, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

She found her way to Elwynder Key,
a smooth-talking madame of infamy,
and after a bottle of Moonsmasher Shine,
the pair struck out towards frontier space:
searching for a sis, ain’t that a fact!
a gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

This was back in ‘78, when Boss Tommy’s gang
were robbin’ and lynchin’ from moon to moon,
callin’ it somethin’ like justice and peace.
But his evil aims caught an iridium eye:
Palla had his number, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

So Palla and Key cooked up a hell of a scheme,
and caught Boss Tommy pants-down on Zanope.
Palla’s shots sent him dancing and reaching for sky,
while his boys snored drunk on Key’s firewine:
gave town a show, ain’t that a fact!
a gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

While Palla kept shootin’ trouble for small and weak,
her bounty kept tickin’ up with a couple o’ fiefs.
Eventually the gettin’ got too good,
for even a friend to stick by our Palla:
Key turned her in, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

The deal, they say, was a shiny new star
and the promise of more than Croesus could spend,
but to spend, you’ve got to live in the end:
the hunters gunned down Key to spare the split.
Palla swore to settle the score, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

Palla played like a fool for the ride to the station,
'til it was clear it’d be her final destination.
she slipped the cuffs and shot one in the back,
then stole his gun, his ride, and fled down the track.
They never did find her, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal—

So boys and girls, if you’re small and meek,
and the trouble you’re facin’ is more than mean,
there’s a shooter out there to ask for a chance:
she’ll do you a favor with smile and iridium wink.
Palla’s a pal for you, ain’t that a fact!
A gunslingin’, rip-roarin’, hard drinkin’ gal…