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Even today in Texas 
after twelve decades
people are narrating
the story of John,
the courageous little hero 
who fought two heartless outlaws;
was he allowed to own a gun
and protect his mom screaming?
One of them resembled Deniro
with a trim beard and green eyes.

The horses frantically neighed
frightened by his fast bullets,
the older outlaw felt a sharp pain
and fell off his white horse and died;
the other tried to shoot John twice,
but he missed and fled...
how could a young boy
have shooter's skills,
was he trained by his dad who killed 
a jail-breaker as he attempted to halt a train?
That makes any joker laugh realizing that
surviving in a violent town is the only way
to show others one's acquired vice,
not considering taking a life a disownment! 

The outlaw's body was buried the next day
by an ironwood tree with a bright color  
and the lushest foliage, but does this outlaw feel anything
going above his graves dug in red clay?
Shade or sunlight matter not to him, only someone praying
and disapproving of his death curses the young rambler!

Even the hot stones remember that fatal shooting
no rainfall could wash the bloodstains from them
and the square was proudly called John's Place,
even a monument was built to commemorate his valor;
kids gather around it and sing a hymn to his brave comrade,
anyone thinking of harming them must remember 
who took the fatal shot proved that attacking
a defenseless woman is an act of cowardice that dishonors him.

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