Open Poetry #34 |
Tumbleweeds were a John Wayne type script |
DavePage Member Elite
since 2003-12-21
Posts 2917 |
I hear the sound of drummers beat Why is there never a retreat I don’t wan’t bully beef I just want a light relief Major John at my back Elfin at my front Rifle lying across my arms Escape a stupid stunt Into the camp in blazing sun Stupidy, your life’s begun Found the water I wanted there Saw the horses Knew no care In stupidy I forgot my creed Forgot my life And my bloody steed Marshall want’s a word Dear John Get yourself where you belong You’ve a talent for quiet places Get this one under your braces Town’s called Ratrap You’re the man You go alone And face the can I look over my shoulder A donkey, a One Horse Town Feet on my desk Makes a change it’s just brown And their mine for a change My life maybe re-arrange Wind coming in dry again Woman following Can I deny again Why don’t you leave gal Go somewhere that has some meaning for you Sal I’m no use to you Two guns on my hip My life on one slip And you dead in my bed Find a highbrow Find a lowbrow Find a good bell That doesn’t ring Hell This badge rings It might as well be tin Find a good man Sal My horse is my only Pal Door swept the room Sucking away the gloom I left by the shack There was no looking back The peace of night is my old friend I walk a lonely march No-one hears me move I don’t take any chance I head for the mountain Miles and miles away Away from the shadows Away from the rest of my day If they spread me out I look over my shoulder There is my women I look ahead, sand Beneath me, the one thing I trust My horse My guns sit silent now And I ride on The colour of green and yellow is the town At least the wind has no bias It just blows Tumbleweed I need to get out to the honesty of the land And let my heart take it's time To turn And know honesty Is the thing you make |
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