Big Hands Don

BIG HANDS DON I s’pose I’ve been a cowboy since I was just a ‘teen But I was herd’n bad guys, see I cowboy’d for the queen I rode with lots of partners up and down the asphalt trail Those that cut the corners and those that wouldn’t fail Some were rough and ready and a few just down right tricky One sticks in my memories, he’s Big Hands Don Molicki Now Big Hands wore a smile that surely was no bluff It didn’t seem to phase him when customers got rough His presence was imposing, a draft horse in the stable When muscle was required Big Hands was more than able He was who ya wanted to back ya in the bar Or wrestling ornery critters into a police car But after all the action of solving crime and caper We’d head back to the office and put it down on paper Well this is where the smile just melted off his face His hands were hardly suited for a secretary’s place Fat fingers on the keyboard, the letters surely flew But when he’d aim for W he’d hit E S and Q One late night as he toiled to fix his shift report The waste pail full beside him with pages he’d abort His mighty fist then crashed down hard upon the keys And he cursed so that we knew this wern’t no time to tease The rest of us were busy putt’n guns and cuffs away When one went over to him and entered in the frey He thought his gun unloaded when he aimed at that machine And said “I’ll solve your troubles” then pulled the trigger clean We stood there in a dither when we heard that pistol bark While the bullet pierced the heart of the exclamation mark When eardrums quit their ringing and smoke commenced to clear Our minds turned to excuses for the questions sure to hear When mounties fire their side arms, reports they have to make We figured this was one we’d probably have to fake But every new rendition of the lie that we would give Seemed just about a shaky and water in a sieve It finally was decided in the middle of the night We’d call the Sarge and fess-up, not a pretty sight With courage fully mustered, the Sergeant home in bed Was told the gruesome details, he asked “ya think it’s dead!!” The month or so that followed slipped by without no gripin’ Big Hands did all our bull work, we did all his typin’