Western Hall Of Fame


Mean men grew in the west we knew, way back in the cowboy days, with rumbling guns they fought for fun putting one another in their graves.
To the halls of fame rode Jesse James, with his pistols flashing fire, Butch Cassidy sang to his outlaw gang while he cut them telegraph wires.
Then back in town with a face a frown, Sam Bass made his assault, he took three sticks of dynamite and blew the bankers vault.
Then they all took turns, while the engineer burned, as they robbed his precious train, then they rode off proud through a smoke filled cloud into histories hall of fame.
Oh sweet refrains of cool saloons a market of surprise, a water hole of dignity for all those western guys. Oh sweet refrains of cool saloons a market of surprise, they rested from a hard work day until the next sunrise.
And the out law bands that roamed the lands through Dodge and other towns, were one by one by someone's gun put slowly in the ground.
Though all have died in gunfight pride, that rode the western land, still to the grave the credit gave will stand for every man.
Now the days are done of the outlaws gun, that terrorized all the west, and the halls of fame still hold the name of the outlaws that were the best.
And enoughs enough of the bad and rough, we'll close this outlaws rein, yeah they rode off proud through a smoke filled could into histories hall of fame.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem