Jesse James 1847-1872
I won't begin to list his jobs
because we’ve heard them all,
from confederate raider to stick
up man, he had a bad man’s gaul
His fame spread with noteriety
across the Yankee plain, but he was
just an outlaw man, he don’t deserve
no fame
But in them days, imagination ruled
the newsman’s pen, and outlaws were
the magic, that ruled the why and when
Some said he was a Robin Hood and
helped the wretched poor, there is no
record of this game, Cole Younger
new the score
While home one day in leafy fall
he moved a picture on the wall,
Bob Ford shot Jesse’s 45, trustful
friend did not survive
And for his efforts, Bob “the coward” got
a shotgun to the throat, cos folks were
getting downright tired, of the back-shooter’s
sickly tote.
And though we like the stirrin turns we think
a bandits life, give thought to poor Zerelda,
Jesse's sad dear wife
Lost in shame and washing clothes to make
a cent or two, she died in rotten poverty
as Jesse’s legend grew.
But Jesse was an icon, his” adventure” we still crave,
and in today’s confection, still we think him brave.
And now they’re lying side by side, in St Joseph’s
cemetary, and if you mused where they’re took,
their waiting Hades ferry.
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015
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