Poetry by Jeff Green


Without a name

by cricketjeff on April 20, 2008.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Without a name, the stranger came
To see what he could do.
He’d earn his keep, a place to sleep
And save a buck or two.

From City slum, a lonely bum
With nothing left to lose.
To mining man, his only plan
To earn the right to choose.

He shovelled coal to save his soul
But couldn’t make enough.
So took a shot at living hot
He chose a life that’s tough.

On such a life, no chance of wife
The stranger lived alone.
He found a gang, with whom to hang
Then struck out on his own.

He rode the plain to rob the train
And killed the engineer.
Then changed his course, full of remorse
He found a life of fear.

While on the run he ditched the gun
One life was all he’d take.
He did not stay on rotten pay
His only big mistake.

The tales were told of outlaws bold
Who lived so fast and well
Was all a lie, he had a try
Now has this tale to tell

Can find no home just has to roam
Takes any job he can
Until the day he has to pay
For killing Driver Dan

Was seen at last, they knew his past
The Sheriff turns the key
No mercy shown he must atone
The judge won’t let him free

The gibbet raised, the Lord is praised
He dies before the crowd
With rope and gun, the West was won
But should the world be proud?

Author notes

Ballad, internal rhyme, straight story telling, as requested. (I hope)