by cricketjeff on November 19, 2009. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
His prairie home was spacious and impossible to tame.
His gun was bright as silver but his clothes were torn and grey
And the Sheriff, George McGilver, told that man to ride away.
His voice was coarse as cactus but as quiet as a lamb,
No laughter to attract us, wasn’t here to sell a scam.
He ignored Old George’s glances, headed to the town’s best bar,
Where the French young lady dances and a man can touch a star.
He was gone before the morning, with that dancer by his side,
Gave the Reverend a warning, told him “make this girl my bride”.
Shot a man who tried to cheat him on a lousy two buck bet,
But the gold he left as payment made the rest of us forget.