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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required As Mad Dog Milt wanders back into the town Caressing his trigger, his face wears a frown Six months in the hills but it’s time to return And somebody somewhere is going to burn Six months of life as a hilltop rambler He ain’t gonna hang for shooting that gambler Who’d pulled a gun due to the rat that he smelt But sometimes four aces is what you get dealt The town hadn’t known he was Mad Dog before Till he cut that man down with a super-fast draw For the man called him cheat and Milt’s patience eroded But how could he know the man’s gun wasn’t loaded Living for months under moon and hot sun Freezing or roasting was no kinda fun He’d asked himself questions but now had just one What kind of man pulls an unloaded gun He pondered that night in the Soup Creek Saloon He vowed that his next shot was destined for June His victim had loaded his gun, without doubt And Milt now knew Floozy June emptied it out * That night she had offered herself for the taking But Milt was a gambler with money for making He’d said she was pretty, real nice on the eye But she should go make eyes at some other guy And so when his victim lay dead on floor She’d made sure his gun wasn’t full any more That was her way of avenging her honour She’d grinned knowing Mad Dog would soon be a gonner * The saloon bar is busy and Milt draws his gun “June’s leaving town due to what she has done, I can’t kill a woman and that’s a darned choker So I’m gonna have me some whiskey and poker.” But June grabs a rifle from under the bar She takes aim but that doesn’t get her too far The rifle misfires as the sheriff walks in So with June sat in jail, Mad Dog Milt plays to win
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