A Lone Gunslinger
Idyllic country setting, from somewhere in the past
Imagine an expanse of rich green grass
Running up to a fence, fronting a proud red barn
The subject of this timeless, yet timely yarn …
The sky painted with bright streaks, close to sunset
Showers had been falling; the world was still wet
From the smell of Spring rains that long linger
Blended with the acrid smoke of a lone gunslinger …
The barn door lay open, not a trace of the horse
Its stall disheveled, from the application of force
The hay unheaten, drops of blood all around
And the gun of a lone gunslinger left on the ground
The owner paused a moment, then wept like a child
Unabashed, herky-jerky, without end did he cry
'Cause he knew full well, as his tears they did swell
That his steed had fallen victim to a gunslinger from Hell
The sun set in the West; night had descended
The life of the horse over, finished, ended ...
Years later folks still recalled the yarn, and the smell
Of the stall emptied by a gunslinger, by his magnum's death knell
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