Welcome To The Bullpen
DUSTY REVENGE
Liera Kay London
Clayton Oakes slept in peace. His casket laid down.
But his legends ‘n’ soul never left that ghost town.
Instead they lived on, just to haunt ‘n’ to tell,
The tales of his life, of the west ‘n’ it’s hell.
* * *
Clayton knew when to draw, ‘n’ when to fix trouble,
‘N’ he knew which man carried shot gun or rifle.
Though his days were a dimmin’, their glories on passin’
His swig was still long, ‘n’ his aim still a blazin’.
Clayton Oakes had seen that cowboy b’fore,
High strung of a man, just a askin for war…
On rode man and his horse; fully trained and purebred,
A dust cloud formed in the wake of their tread.
Close in chase came the stallion, with its rider in black,
With a pistol in hand, and a will to attack.
Oakes and his stallion were catchin’ up speed,
He took aim, pulled the trigger and his shot to proceed.
The bullet had hit the rider head on,
His horse had kept runnin’, by now near long gone.
This cowboy he shot was an outlaw and thief,
A criminal and nasty crook in the least,
Once again Clayton Oakes did an hon’rable deed.
And gave a story to tell of a man and his steed.
...
Clayton Oakes slept in peace. His casket laid down.
But his legends ‘n soul never left that old town.
Instead they breathed on, just to haunt ‘n to tell,
The tales of the west ‘fore he bid them farewell.
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