In spring of eighteen sixty-three, along that Comstock Lode

Virginia City didn’t have the highest moral code,

And when they heard another fallen angel fluttered down

They thought she’d join the others on the seedy side of town.

But Julia would join them in their fancy neighborhood

And show the gentle manners that a proper lady should,

She freely gave whenever worthy causes would appear

And helped to buy equipment for the firehouse volunteers.

Julia sparkled brighter than the silver in the mines

Even local gossips said she seemed a bit refined,

Beautiful and witty, she lit up Virginia City,

They never would forget

Their Julia Bulette.

Then on a fateful winter day, they found poor Julia dead

Her fancy gowns and jewelry gone, and bloodstains on her head,

When word of Julia’s murder spread, throughout the afternoon

They draped the town for mourning, then they closed up their saloons.

The next day men folk took a bath and wore their Sunday best

To gather on a snowy day and lay their queen to rest,

They say that sixty firemen and the miners all combined

To sing their tearful version of  “The Girl I Left Behind.”

Julia sparkled brighter than the silver in the mines

Even local gossips said she seemed a bit refined,

Beautiful and witty, she lit up Virginia City,

They never would forget

Their Julia Bulette.