Cowboys revenge

Cowboy's Revenge

The cowboy drew near to the town he held dear,
Bum on saddle hand on his gun,
The townsfolk all knew what he'd come for,
To avenge the wrong he'd been done.

He was only sixteen when they drove him out,
With sticks and a leather bullwhip,
Cyril was now ready to take his revenge,
On those that criticised his 'dicky' hip,

He limped along through gathering throng,
To the saloon at the end of the street,
He spat on the sidewalk to show his contempt,
Ordered a whiskey, a double and neat.

"OK you sodbusters he hissed through clenched teeth,
"Where's the sheriff, the doc and the mayor?
The bartender spoke in a very high voice,
"We don't know, we've been round, nobody's there.

"OK growled Cyril, hitching blue denim strides,
"I'll do my own search he said,
The first one he found was the sheriff,
Hiding underneath his mistresses bed.

He dragged him out covered in fluff,
Shook him down like an old sewer rat,
Stuck his gun in his gob, squeezed trigger with ease,
Murmuring "How'd'y like that?.

Next was the doc who sobered on cue,
Quick as a flash, he made a dash for the door,
Cyril reacted, and fired just once,
Doc was dead as he hit the floor.

Finally came the turn of bloated town mayor,
Of violence not wanting to partake,
He hid behind, a narrow telegraph pole,
Which proved a fatal mistake.

Cyril blew the smoke from his six guns,
And holstered them like an old pro,
He then mounted his horse like an athlete,
He was done, it was now time to go.

So if your thinking of calling a cowboy a cissy,
Making remarks on the way that they walk,
Remember the story of Cyril,
He just shoots, they'll be no time for talk!

(C) Terry Sorby