Open Poetry #4 |
An Untold Tale of the west |
John Yaws Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 860Texas |
The trail is long and dusty That leads to Mexico- You’re looking at a rider Who really ought to know. I wore it out a dozen years While working shady dealings ‘Twixt running guns to Villa And cattle we were stealin’. Fort Stockton, south Two hundred miles They carved right out of hell Without a drop of water Or shade that I could tell. Apache lance to split your spine Comanche’s lift your hair- And everything; bite, sticks, or stings You’re apt to find out there. Me and Robert Caylor- We called him Pecos Bob- Were running from the Rangers We’d pulled a holdup job. My hoss went lame at Horsehead We started riding double It wasn’t long until we knew- That we were in real trouble. The dust a half a day behind Really didn’t matter Them mirror flashes to the West- Apaches as we gathered... A man don’t know what real fear means Till he sees Apache leavin’s For then the hardest hearted cuss Will find himself a’grievin’ We done our best, I’ll give us that And Bob he never wavered- And even when they lit the fires His courage never quavered- What happened? well, you fool! We died. There in the trackless waste... And slew a heathen honor guard To sanctify the place. |
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© Copyright 1999 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Mike Member Elite
since 1999-06-19
Posts 2462 |
Well done. Enjoyed. |
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Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-20
Posts 21191Cape Cod Massachusetts USA |
You do have a way of keeping the flavor of the old west alive.... Nice one GS.... |
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