Hired Guns (For The Lone Ranger) Poem by Steven Drake

Hired Guns (For The Lone Ranger)

Rating: 5.0


HIRED GUNS
(For The Lone Ranger)
by Steven A. J. Drake
January 28,2012

1) Fighting a war with words out of
The deep, dark recesses of my mind.
According to my bloodline. I'm related
To Joaquin Murrieta. California.
Robin Hood of the old west.
He got with an Indian woman.
Apache. Geronimo. Arizona.
Perhaps parts of New Mexico.

2) Hard pressed with guns and saddle.
Raised myself up with a bow and arrows.
Slipping back over time's of treacherous
Deep, dark secret shadows. Government stealing
Indian land. Gold and silver.
The white of their eyes. Over the crest
Of mountains. No fair gains for a free ride,
Across the western plains, disguised.

Chorus:
Hired guns to steal your cattle.
Drawing your marksmanship.
Without a medal. Mixed, to even the score.
After the facts at the rue morgue.
Ravens knocking down your door.
Sleep with one eye open. Stars
With a mask for the Lone Ranger.

3) Sky was the limit. Talk to eagles.
Bare down the punches. Wearing a mask for
Zorro. Clearing your head. Broken treaties.
Wiping out the buffalo. Trade fairs that come
Down to zero. No peace of mind.
Stealing your heroes. Gifts of labor
Sought after the facts of tomorrow...
Raising questions up out of the dead.

Bridge:
A whole lot has changed. Stagecoaches. 
Wells Fargo. Pinkerton hired to break up
The Unions. Where are the bodies buried?
In the graves at the O.K. Corral.
Horses prancing in the arena.
Clowns taking the bulls by the horns.
In crowds of desperados.

Chorus:
Hired guns to steal your cattle.
Drawing your marksmanship.
Without a medal. Mixed, to even the score.
After the facts at the rue morgue.
Ravens knocking down your door.
Sleep with one eye open. Stars
With a mask for the Lone Ranger.

4) No retreating from a good day to die.
Across the horizon of the western skies...
Jesse James. Billy the Kid and Mark Twain.
Shooting from the hip with perfect aim.
Buffalo Bill and Calamity Jane. All the
Way to Europe's halls of fame. Pulling
Swords out of scabbard's reign. From
The days of old right here today.

Chorus:
Hired guns to steal your cattle.
Drawing your marksmanship.
Without a medal. Mixed, to even the score.
After the facts at the rue morgue.
Ravens knocking down your door.
Sleep with one eye open. Stars
With a mask for the Lone Ranger.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dave Walker 18 February 2012

A really fantastic song/poem, a really great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, From The Grave.

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Steven Drake

Steven Drake

San Diego, California
Close
Error Success