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About This Poem
Kid Colt, Outlaw
The sounds of wolves howling... echoed loudly,
deep in the solitary woods of no mans land,
While the blazing campfire shared its hearth proudly,
heating the pot of coffee Kid Colt had close at hand,
Each day rehashed such thoughts of how it would be,
for one labeled an outlaw man,
Would it be jail....or staying free,
or getting dealt the dead mans hand?
Staying on the run is sure trouble,
when yer wanted dead or alive fer a crime...
If yer shot dead..all they need is a shovel,
alive...it's, a hanging or prison time,
Card games can bring out the worse in a man,
if yer drinking gets ya mouthy or drunk,
and blaming a player of a cheating hand...
could be yer jawing on too big a chunk!
Saw many a man shot between the eyes,
and some plumb through the chest!
Too slow a gun, ain't no surprise....
The fastest can be the deadliest!
Never plan to kill over a triple jack hand,
and don't fancy getting called a cheat in any card play!
Not enough guts could get ya shot in the back, and..
could-have.. can't back down,.. turn around,.. can't walk away,
"Epic Epigram"
His name came rightly so.....
He carried two colts wherever he'd go...
"The Outlaw"- came, from his death dealing draw!....
during card games or a fist fighting brawl!...
Boom!.... down one went! Boom!- Boom! -3 bullets spent!
Boom!Boom!Boom! hell bound they're sent....
by Kid Colt...The Outlaw Gent.
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