Welcome To The Bullpen
Willy Bocain
By Patty Juliano
It was the fifth of December when he rode into town,
The new powdered snow was a covering the ground.
And he was big and rough.
And he was mean and tough.
And everyone ran when they heard that the name,
Of the mysterious rider was Willy Bocain.
You can’t depend on your name.
Well Willy he’s killed he at least 50 men,
The last one I heard was his very best friend.
And he was quiet and calm,
As if there was nothing wrong.
The only sound that you heard in the street,
Was the ringing of spurs upon Willy’s feet?
Willy walk on by.
Willy Bocain you’re a man half insane,
You got a lot to loose, but nothing to gain.
You can’t depend of your name.
Word got around that the reason he’d come,
Was to settle a matter with a certain someone.
We heard him call a name,
To a man who seemed quite tame?
Another stranger who was just passing by,
Had a smile on his face, and a gun by his side.
Better walk on by
Some people saw, and the story’s been told,
How they stood in the street jus ignoring the cold.
The stranger stood with ease,
Willy yelled, “Get on your knees.”
The stranger laughed; “I’ve got no need to pray.”
And when the smoked cleared, one stood, one lay.
Oh who meant his day?
Willy Bocain lay as cold as the snow,
And what happened next, well, nobody knows.
Why the stranger shed a tear,
For a man that we all feared.
He got on his horse disappeared like the “SON”,
He left this town, but he took Willy’s gun.
Disappeared like the “Son”.
Willy Bocain you were a man half insane,
You lost a lot; a grave’s all you gained.
YOU CAN’T DEPEND ON YOUR NAME
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