Gunslinger's Ballad Poem by Trevor Stelzer

Late one night, in a rag tag saloon,
I sipped on a brew when approached a buffoon.
His tongue grew loose with his steady drink,
In no time, my patience was edged to its brink.
We both bore the sixguns crisscrossed at our side,
He challenged my aim, my valor, my pride.
'Hold up now pard, your words carry great load, '
He demanded I face him on the deserted dirt road.
So there we stood, not twenty paces apart,
Our irons at hand, my target, his heart.
As fluid as water, in the blink of an eye
My gun left its holster and thundered its cry.
As quick as I drew he fell to the ground,
To satan or God his soul was now bound.
A young man ran in tears from the saloon,
He knelt by his father, and howled at the moon.
He looked in my eyes with quivering lips,
Like his dead father, guns lay at his hips.
His eyes blazed with hatred, his intent was clear.
Twas the rage in his eyes that evoked my fear.
'Son, I know you ain't smart, but you don't appear dumb,
If you had any brains you'd run from my gun.'
I was caught off guard at the speed of his draw,
I returned his sling, discharging lead law.
As soon as it began, my hammer anded this quarrel,
Father, and son, lay reunited neath my barrel.
Regret flowed through me, mixed with crimson dread,
I seeped down to the mud to join the new dead.
Justice has been served in the outlaw's land,
A true gunslinger's death, sixgun in hand.