~ Mary Fields…
Was born into slavery somewhere back east
she thought it was Hickman County, Tennessee
Growing up, she had learned how to read and write
though she'd spent her childhood in captivity
Came to Montana to live life as a nun
but learned she was better suited for fight'n
She stood six foot tall and weighed two hundred pounds
wore a six shooter she could draw fast as light'n
She had arms and hands looked like battering rams
she towered o'er most cowboys here in the west
She smoked cigars and chawed a tobacco plug
a flask of whisky hidden under her dress
She came to fame one day when a green cowpoke
said that no black woman could be his better
She'd laid him out flat when he went for his gun
Mary shot him before he could clear leather
In her left hand she could hold the reigns of six
of the orneriest horses you'd ever knew
while shooting a shotgun with the other hand
and could still keep them horses a runnin' smooth
She'd out shoot, out fight and out drink any man
Was mean, stubborn, cantankerous and scary
Specially if you was a meaning to steal
from a wagon driven by Stagecoach Mary
He looked at me with one eye closed
And chawed his tobacco
speaking low and slow
Ya see a man needs a code to live by
And to say it straight looking the person in the eye
For I have seen some terrible things
And know what being scared brings
But don’t worry about that he said
Saddle up anyway for courage instead
We rode on along the dusty trail
Knowing that when I was with him I couldn’t fail
For a man like him knows the score
And will keep on keeping on no matter what’s in store.
© Paul Warren Poetry
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