BOOT HILL
By: Wayne Brown
It is a quiet old spot just a ways out from town
And you seldom see hardly a soul there around
For all that is up there on that barren, old hill
Are those dirty skunks whose ways got 'em killed
There’s old Todd Crane, a full-time drunk at his best
Got a hot .44 lead slug right through his leather vest
And over yonder is the famous outlaw, Farley Granger
Died face-down in a shootout with a Texas Ranger
Under that old lone oak tree lies old,sorry Bill Cobb
He was bad to rob trains; both him and his mob
And right beside him is the one and only Curly Brown
Everyone remembers the day when he came into town
That old worn, wood marker by the narrow entrance gate
Is for a Texas gunslinger by the name of Aubrey Slate
He was a fast one and a downright mean and ornery lot
But in the end, he was not the one with the winning shot
Sam Jenkins has a marker that stands out there alone
It’s the only one up here that is made from cut stone
Seems his family cared enough to bury him right
After he got himself killed in a barroom gunfight
There’s that killer-for-hire named Slim Twilley
Came to town riding a pretty,little sorrel philly
He got himself shot dead and never left of course
But rumor has it his killer is still ridin’ that horse
That one in the corner; that sir, is "The Amos Black"
A card-shark and a deck he could truly stack
But he got caught while not playing it straight
His last hand, a full-house, those Aces and Eights
There’s some bad ones there but none will hurt you
And there is not a one with any redeeming virtue
But we planted them there and they remain there still
Them low down skunks we buried upon ol’ Boot Hill
(c)Copyright WBrown2012. All Rights Reserved
21 March 2012