The Death of Prickly Pete

Ol’ Prickly was dead, shot down with hot lead, and all of his friends did grieve— But so it now seems, they fell for his schemes – he owned money before he did leave. “In that dern cuss, I put all my trust,” said Rod, “but he up and dies just like that— He borrowed my horse and my saddle, of course, and now he’s still wearin’ my hat!” “He promised to marry,” cried sweet little Sherry, “he told me I was the only one. But at the wake hall as I started to bawl, in walks three wives, ten daughters and a son!” Now I ain’t got no truck in yer bad luck,” said a tall man to all of Pete’s ex’s— “But that dern dead ol’ Pete tied me up real neat by sellin’ me half of Texas!” “Oh, please,” the pastor begged on his knees, “can we not speak ill of the dead? Surely there was good in this misunderstood cowboy whose life has now fled?!” But an hour was fleet as they spoke of ol’ Pete, who lived by the lie and the gun— Hearin’ more tales of Pete’s travails, the preach screams, “Let’s burn this dirty ol’ son!” Then just in a bit, as their torches were lit, sweet little Sherry faints in a swoon— For sittin’ in the casket like fruit in a basket, Pete says, its jest a flesh wound!” Then he done said, “All reports of me bein’ dead, has done been exaggerated— I seen Saint Pete before, but he warn’t no cure and ol’ death is over-rated!” They chased Pete alone from the funeral home and he’s never been seen again, But no one did care, just so he wasn’t there – he claimed no kith, kin or friend. So it goes to show if you’re dyin’ to go, its better you take enough lead— ‘Cause if your name’s Pete, life ain’t complete until they’re sure you’re stone dead!