My daddy left home when I was three Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid But the meanest thing that he ever did Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue".
Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July And I just hit town and my throat was dry, I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew. At an old saloon on a street of mud, There at a table, dealing stud, Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue".
He was big and bent and gray and old, And I looked at him and my blood ran cold And I said, "My name is 'Sue'! How do you do! Now you're gonna die!"
Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes And he went down, but to my surprise, He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair right across his teeth And we crashed through the wall and into the street Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.
I tell ya, I've fought tougher men But I really can't remember when, He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile. I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss, He went for his gun and I pulled mine first, He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.
And he said, "Son, this world is rough And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along. So I give ya that name and I said goodbye I knew you'd have to get tough or die And it's the name that helped to make you strong."