Carruthers he shot, and mother she fell,
And stunned Elliot went for his gun,
The father went down, hit in the heart,
And the bad man searched for the son.
But his luck no longer would run.
For Elliot’s gun barked with a flash,
And Carruther’s jerked back with his head,
He pitched to the ground, didn’t even moan,
The blackguard was already dead.
The floor of the cabin stained red.
Elliot turned and shifted his gun,
Onto that damnable, young whore
She shrieked and cried,”Wait, please stop!
You need to now something more.
If you kill me, you’ll add to this horror!”
“I need you to know, you seed has took root
And quickened deep within my womb!
If you shoot me now, your own child will
Be condemned to darkness and doom.
Please, think about what your doing!”
Elliot, he held back, eyes blazing rage,
And jerked the damned girl to her feet,
He marched her down to Marshall Dale,
And there he made her repeat,
The tale of Carruthers’ dark deed.
The people, incensed, cried for her to hang,
A fate she so richly deserved.
But her stomach did swell, and everyone saw
The truth of her desperate words.
The child would not be left to burn.
For months she sat in Skagway’s small jail,
She was alone, hated, and despised.
Elliot stayed clear, too consumed with hate,
To ever venture on inside,
He couldn’t risk facing her eye-to-eye.
She faded away after her son was born,
And though it made sound perverse,
Many have said it was better for her,
To pass away from childbirth,
For the rope awaited the damned girl.
Elliot took his son, and moved far away
And dedicated his life to farming.
But he could not shake the stubborn thought,
That the damned girl had taken on last thing:
He never got to watch her swing.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017