Spaghetti - a Movie Not Made
Smoke signals rise from Sitting Duck cavern
In town the Pitt gang are trashing the tavern
John Wayne strolled in and he ain’t here to dance
They say that he walked like he just sh*t his pants
Don’t be a doubtin, that Marshall ain’t messin
A man ain’t alone when he’s got Smith n Wesson
An outlaw’s revolver, a volley of lead
A slug on the rebound leaves Rick O’Shey dead
Wayne chewed his cheroot and a grin split his lips
Hands above holsters gainst each of his hips
‘Sonny Pritt, I’m here to banish your ilk
So get off your horse and drink your milk’
Pritt clambered down with no fear in his eye
Wayne said God-dammit you're one metre high
Pritt said I’m three feet to the lobes of my ears
We still won’t be metric in two hundred years
Wayne said you're the midget that’s been on the loose
Since someone got paid to tie a bad noose
But I've tracked you down to this two bit saloon
About the right place for a two bit buffoon
Pritt said I won’t stand here in fear of my life
For a man with an Indian brave for a wife
You stand there and tell me you’re Marshall John Wayne
You wanna think whose side your on... just sayin
Wayne spat his cheroot, crushed it under his boot
We gotta discuss the small matter of loot
You vermin are butchers and robbers, not scholars
I’m guessin you’re toting a fistful of dollars
You better come easy, don’t one of you frown
One out of place twitch, and I’ll cut you all down
So lay all your weapons down there on the floor
Won’t need me no rope if you move and I draw
Pritt said I think we should take this outside
So shoot me or follow, I’ll let you decide
He ducked the swing doors and stepped out of the tavern
And read the smoke signals from Sitting Duck cavern
I think what it says is, ‘Hey you, in the town
Many men try to bring my white man down
He’s braver than one of Geronimo’s sons
But tell him come home...
He’s forgotten his guns’
Without Smith and Wesson, the lawman was beat
So Marshall John Wayne lies dead at Pritt’s feet
A bundle of tumbleweed rolls down the street
No reason really, it’s just kinda neat.
Epilogue
Pritt and his gang left him dead in the street
Like food for coyotes, just festering meat
But John Wayne sat up in the afternoon heat
And pulls from his waistcoat, a dented steel sheet
With a click of his tongue his faithful horse, Jester
Came over and Wayne grabbed his trusty Winchester
He pushed the swing doors and the gang met his gaze
What Wayne left behind was a right Bolognese
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2021
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