The Spirit of Soup Creek
In Soup Creek saloon behind Jenna’s bar
Milt’s holsters and belt and a posthumous star
Are fixed to a plaque to remember him best
There’s a custom made bracket where Milton’s guns rest
The gun barrels cross over Milt’s royal flush
That last hand had brought the saloon to a hush
In fact it was Milton who’d made the next sound
“Jenna, your very best whisky all round!”
But news travels fast and a rowdy cowpoke
Was raucously mocking that ‘old bible bloke’
He fancied himself as the new poker ace
He groped at a waitress and got a slapped face
He'd thought that his challenge would meet with complacency
Milt might be gone but there wasn’t a vacancy
Tom C, the Mayor, in his civic capacity
Said to the man, “You have shameless audacity,
Milton would beat you with nought but a pair.”
The man drew his pistols and fired in the air
Sheriff, Mark Koplin was tied up elsewhere
His deputy, Terry (that’s me) was right there
I stood and I told the man, “Be on your way,
This town doesn’t need your kind round here today.”
He frowned and said, “Mr, you’re well out of touch,
I heard you don’t hang around here all that much.
Ain’t no part timer can out draw my gun
So I’m gonna linger and have me some fun.”
Then from the bar a gunshot rang out
The cowpoke was suddenly riddled with doubt
He tried some bravado, “That wasn’t too clever—
But four more gun shots and he ran he’ll for leather
He hopped left and right and fled into the street
While gunshots kicked up the dirt right at his feet
He leapt on his horse and he galloped at speed
(The puddles were not ’cause his gelding had peed)
The slugs in the dirt, when I examined them
Surprised me by forming a big letter ‘M’
Back in the saloon I said, “Nice Shooting, Jen
But the bar was unoccupied and that was when
I heard Jenna’s voice as she came down the stairs,
“I don’t have my gun, I was caught unawares.”
She stopped and she stared and she just might have joked
On the counter Milt’s guns sat and silently smoked
But the bar was attended by no one at all
So how did his guns find their way off the wall?
A hand drawn image of Milt, in a frame,
Confused everyone for it wasn’t the same
A stranger while scratching at his stubbled chin
Decided Milt’s portrait now wore a big grin
*
Just over the street from the Soup Creek saloon
An establishment new will be opening soon
To service the hungry by welcoming them
They’ll find a good steak at the brand new ‘Big M’.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
