Peter Lewis Holmes Poet Cowboy Poetry

Ringo's Last Ride

It’s way back in the eighties, of  the eighteenth century,
the bad man Johnny Ringo, did stalk Arizona free,
from Lukeville  to Sonoro, he dealt his darkest hand,
and sought to take the silver, from outlawed Mexican band

With Curly Bill and Scott Corley, he ambushed smuggler’s
band, their heavy bags of silver, sure lookin kinda grand,
gunshots smoked the many, some were kept for sport,
tortured in the hot sun, without a kindred thought

Now Ringo took to spendin, his gotten gains with glee,
and tabled games of poker, he played while he was free
but Wyatt Earp got wind of  him, or so the story goes,
and shot him thru the head one day, sleepin peacefully

Now many’s took the claim, for shootin Johnny thru,
but others say he took his life cos drinkin made him blue,
and if you want to see the place, they laid his body down,
he’s in West Turkey Valley, on the other side of town

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