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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Clyde There's a graveyard outside of town, Home to a hundred souls. Buried by loved ones long ago - Put in a hundred holes. Just one man's stone seems out of place, His name is simply Clyde. Ain't nothin' else to tell you who, Or even when he died. I asked ol' Jake just who he was - Ol' Jake's a hundred three - He laughed as he recalled that name, An' how Clyde used to be. Said he came ridin' into town 'Bout sixty years ago. Was lookin' for a cowboy's job An' talkin' nice an' slow. Nobody knew him at the time, Our town's a place to hide. Runnin' from a hundred women All searchin' for their Clyde. The rumor had it way back then - Clyde was born a lover. Too many husbands found that out, An' Clyde ran here for cover. He lasted here for sev'ral years 'Til Leroy Jones came 'round. He brought a double action Colt An' put Clyde in the ground. As odd as it may seem to you, Gals still are on his side - I saw a wreath the other day That said God Bless You Clyde He had somethin' I never saw, An' guess I shouldn't care. I couldn't help but like ol' Clyde, Who's buried over there
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