The Day I Picked Up That Dead Man's Gun

I saw my first killing
At the tinder age of thirteen
Two men fell outta the towns saloon
And commenced to fighting in the street

It was at that very moment
My Momma she grabbed me
But Momma couldn't keep me from seeing
What it is I seen

It broke my heart when Momma
Stood on that dusty street and cried
But I still went about my business
When she covered up her eyes

I grabbed the dead mans gun
That's when I told my lie
I told my Momma that I'd be home
Later on that night

But my Momma she never saw
Her young boys face again
'Cept on the wanted posters
Nailed up by many a lawman

Many a lawman lately
That's gunning for my hide
'N' to think it all got started
When the first owner of this here gun of mine died

My killing spree started in Colorado
Then went south for a spell
Every town that I rode up on
Became a living hell

A living hell that no one ever
Had the nerve to give me back
I almost feel sorry for the men
Who ever dared to cross my path

No matter how far or fast I ran
Death was always close behind
In his right hand he holds a flaming sword
On the handle engraved the name is mine

The name is mine
And he knows it well
Deaths one desire
Is my soul in hell

I was twenty one years of age
When a coward shot me in the back
Shot me in the back
Cause it was courage that he lacked

The courage that he lacked
Stopped my deadly run
As fast as it all got started
The day I pick up that dead mans gun
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Hoffman Avatar
September 20, 2016 at 9:31 AM
Makes me think of all the western outlaws like Jesse James, etc. Another good one with a country western flair!:)
Turner Avatar
September 19, 2016 at 9:49 PM
This reminds me of a couple of country songs, Mike. You ought to put this to music. I think you have written a winner!
Hauser  Avatar
September 19, 2016 at 10:11 PM
Wish I had the time and talent for that! Thanks!
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