Ye Olde Western

YE OLD WESTERN

The sweltering sun beats a path on down
Baking the desert to a crisp golden brown
Sizzling sand crackles, mirages alight
Not a breeze not a movement, not before night

Off in the distance, a dusty ol' town
Grubby cow workers and Madams mill 'round
Horse drawn carts and tumbleweeds alike
Bank robbers, gun slingers, ready to fight

A tavern, a blacksmith, the good ol' sheriff's place
A typical western town, its bar wenches in lace
See the beggars and sellers, cowboys and such
Wild horses and bar fights add a nice touch

Peer far into the horizon and yu'll surely see
A roiling dust cloud, kicked up by his steed
Thundering hooves, and blazing spurs
Here comes Billy Bob, to claim his Pilsners!

He gallops into town, cowboy hat still on
He's managed to keep it there, 'the way from Tucson
His horse skids to a stop, not tired at all
Billy Bob leaps off, for he'd never fall

He strides into the bar, and orders a beer
The Harlot grins broad and offers 'er rear
He shakes his head, turning her down
For Billy Bob's the honest cowboy in town

All of a sudden the door swings wide
In strides them thugs, wearing rawhide
Demanding cash and maids, the robbers do holler
Good Billy Bob stands up, but the thugs are taller

The barmaid screams, as guns are drawn
Patrons are hiding, their bravado gone
Billy Bob aims and with one shot
Kills every bad thug, the whole damn lot

Five bullets to spare and no sweat shed
Billy Bob takes his hat, and steps over the dead
Strides out to his horse, somehow waiting outside
Leaping on, it rears and he cries

"Good people of...Ville, your town is safe,
I will return, so just have faith!"
And with that he gallops off, to gain surely a sunburn
Watch the credits roll, what a typical Western!