Long Historyold Poems
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She was a wily cigar chompin' gambler with the moniker of Poker Alice,
Renowned throughout the west for her skill in many a gamblin' palace!
Poker Alice had a good head for countin' and with her very cunnin' guile,
(Plus her beauty), she mesmerized her opponents, amassin' quite a pile!
Poker Alice worked in saloons across the west as a faro and poker dealer.
She worked in Creede, Colorado for Bob Ford, that notorious stealer!
Because of her pious rearin' as a girl, she refused to work on Sundays,
But she was back smokin' a two-dollar stogie and dealin' cards on Mondays!
She drifted to Deadwood, South Dakota, where her notoriety was well known,
And married a house painter named Tubbs who was a deft gambler on his own!
Later she established a brothel near Fort Mead Army Post with her ill-gotten gain.
The place was small and she needed funds to fix the 'house' on Pleasure Lane!
To expand and recruit 'soiled doves' from Kansas City she applied for a loan.
The banker scratched his skull sayin', "I dunno! That's a risk into the unknown!"
She convinced him notin' that The Grand Old Army had an encampment near,
And for the soldiers' bent for visitin' hog ranches, he had nothin' at all to fear!
Things didn't go well since she plumb forgot The Methodist Preachers' Convention,
Convened each and every year and she hadn't figured on that intervention!
Poker Alice's fame and notoriety followed her well beyond her wanin' years.
She died after a gall bladder operation with her 'house' payments in arrears!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 in Don Johnson's " Your Old Ballad Or Rhyme - Best Of All Time" Contest
July 2011
Continued From:
3. Quien es?" "Who is it?" Part 3
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195853
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"I find it very hard that I should be the only one to suffer the most extreme penalties of the
law." - BILLY the Kid
- In an interview while on route to his execution in Lincoln County New Mexico where he was
sentenced to be hanged.
Back then it didn't matter who was right or wrong.
What mattered was who had the fastest gun.
The untamed Old West lived by a code back then. "I'll Die Before I Run."
An 18 year old boy wanders into town. All of the locals stare the young stranger down.
All of his instincts tell him to turn around, but he can't turn his back and run.
The youngster can't afford any fear. The kid's found himself much needed work here,
but the competition's greed is ruthless. That's why he wears a gun.
Young William Bonney was just another cowboy
looking for work to earn an honest day's pay.
He rode into Lincoln County, New Mexico as a simple hired rancher's hand,
but he'd ride out to become a legend one day.
Today he's America's most famous bad boy,
but he left us more legend than fact of all he did.
His legend continues to live on in stories, movies, books and song.
Who hasn't heard of BILLY the Kid?
BILLY the Kid's life of crime for many it seems
has been greatly exaggerated to the extremes.
He never robbed a bank, stagecoach or train.
He never harmed an innocent for pleasure or financial gain.
He was just a common stock thief. He'd steal horses and cattle
from corrupt, rich Cattle Barons who'd respond in bloody battle.
It was a lifestyle that Billy truly didn't desire,
but when your wanted by the law employers don't hire.
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To Continue Go To:
5. Billy, the Kid Part 2
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195851
It rests 'neath spreading sycamores on the small-town square,
A venerable old relic of the Civil War affair.
The sun casts a fleeting glint as it rises anew each dawn,
On the brass barrel of the cannon on the court house lawn.
Oft' on languid summer days I like to pause and muse,
About its past and the brave men who once comprised its crews.
Tho' long silent it still has a powerful story to tell,
As in the heat of battle it spewed its shot and shell.
I wonder where and by whose skilled hands it was made.
Did Johnny Reb or Billy Yank light the fuse for its grenade?
Was it present at Gettysburg, repelling with deadly barrage,
The cavalry of General Pickett's daring but fatal charge?
I proudly recall that my great-grandpa was in the artillery.
Could he have manned it at the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee?
Did it accompany General Sherman on his march toward the sea?
Did it witness the surrender to Grant at Appomattox by Lee?
Little children now happily scamper on this stately old piece,
That fought for the North or South and saw the battles' cease.
Old soldiers with far away stares recall its flaming roar,
Watch the children play and silently pray, "No more war!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
The Star Spangled Banner gently undulates o'er this noble nation,
The symbol of freedom since this country's turbulent creation.
Though trampled upon and debased by many around the earth,
The flag has become a beacon of hope since the moment of its birth!
On June 14, 1777, The Congress adopted the flag of our nation,
With thirteen stars and stripes representing a new constellation!
Valiant patriots from that genesis down to this very day,
Paid the price upholding the flag and liberties we enjoy today.
O'er many decades, gallant soldiers clashed in awful strife,
In Civil War and upon foreign soil defending our way of life.
Midst the throes of battle and clouds of billowing smoke,
Eyes e'er on that tattered banner, their ranks never broke!
The grand old flag is proudly carried in small town parade,
And from courthouse spires it is prominently displayed.
In the local cemetery, tiny flags decorate a hero's grave,
To honor him for the sacrifices he so unselfishly gave.
The final tribute for which Old Glory is displayed,
Is to blanket the bier upon which honored heroes are laid.
The clarion notes of "Taps" wafts hauntingly through the air,
As faithful warriors are committed to His tender and loving care.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)