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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In Soup Creek saloon behind Jenna’s bar Milt’s holsters and belt and a posthumous star Are fixed to a plaque to remember him best There’s a custom made bracket where Milton’s guns rest The gun barrels cross over Milt’s royal flush That last hand had brought the saloon to a hush In fact it was Milton who’d made the next sound “Jenna, your very best whisky all round!” But news travels fast and a rowdy cowpoke Was raucously mocking that ‘old bible bloke’ He fancied himself as the new poker ace He groped at a waitress and got a slapped face He'd thought that his challenge would meet with complacency Milt might be gone but there wasn’t a vacancy Tom C, the Mayor, in his civic capacity Said to the man, “You have shameless audacity, Milton would beat you with nought but a pair.” The man drew his pistols and fired in the air Sheriff, Mark Koplin was tied up elsewhere His deputy, Terry (that’s me) was right there I stood and I told the man, “Be on your way, This town doesn’t need your kind round here today.” He frowned and said, “Mr, you’re well out of touch, I heard you don’t hang around here all that much. Ain’t no part timer can out draw my gun So I’m gonna linger and have me some fun.” Then from the bar a gunshot rang out The cowpoke was suddenly riddled with doubt He tried some bravado, “That wasn’t too clever— But four more gun shots and he ran he’ll for leather He hopped left and right and fled into the street While gunshots kicked up the dirt right at his feet He leapt on his horse and he galloped at speed (The puddles were not ’cause his gelding had peed) The slugs in the dirt, when I examined them Surprised me by forming a big letter ‘M’ Back in the saloon I said, “Nice Shooting, Jen But the bar was unoccupied and that was when I heard Jenna’s voice as she came down the stairs, “I don’t have my gun, I was caught unawares.” She stopped and she stared and she just might have joked On the counter Milt’s guns sat and silently smoked But the bar was attended by no one at all So how did his guns find their way off the wall? A hand drawn image of Milt, in a frame, Confused everyone for it wasn’t the same A stranger while scratching at his stubbled chin Decided Milt’s portrait now wore a big grin * Just over the street from the Soup Creek saloon An establishment new will be opening soon To service the hungry by welcoming them They’ll find a good steak at the brand new ‘Big M’.
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