The Buffoon

So there it was nigh on high noon In the heat of summer's day, When down the street walked the buffoon While the town folk were napping away. No one took much notice at first Of the buffoon out on the street; They'd not recognize his mighty thirst While dozing there half asleep. But into the sheriff's office he strode, This buffoon once the laughing stock And with his six shooter to unload, The town folk woke to an awful shock. Now the keys are his, the perfect trap, Where once there was but a buffoon; These town folk who too long to nap, Will follow on the road to ruin.