Just a lighthearted poke at good ol' westerns. |
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! |