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Welcome To The Bullpen
Whisky Joe
By Shirley Utting
Sitting in the corner
Of the buffalo saloon
Is an angry old man
His name is Whisky Joe
He once had a wife
And two young boys too
There cabin was burnt to the ground
But only two bodys were found
It was the body of a woman
And one of a young boy
What happend to the other
No one seems to know
But out there somewere
Is the dead boys brother
Over time they were forgotten
But not by Whisky joe
He was once a decent man
Worked hard for his family
Growing crops on his land
The towns folk new him well
Were proud to shake his hand
Now he has no freinds
On his own and all alone
Poor old Whisky Joe
The years seem to have flown
His boy would have grown
He would be in his fortys now
Maybe with children of his own
Joe pours himself a drink
His head is going round and round
He falls a drunken fool
Poor old Whisky Joe
He lays there on his bed
But he is not just sleeping
He has drunk himself to death
At his graveside a man is weeping
The only mouner there
The only one that is greaving
This man he must have known
Poor old Whisky Joe
In the Buffalo saloon
This man sits all alone
He commited a terrible crime
He set fire to there family home
And let his mother and brother die
This his father never new
This man was the long lost son
Off poor old Whisky joe.
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REVIEW 1
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