A Jedge in the West comin from the South
With ruby sideburns, boy –
Always usin flowery languij –
The grim fightin hero's troubles
Are always private –
He wants to know where "I fit in"
In herd wars –
Sometimes you see villains so ancient
You saw them in infancy
Exaggerating in snow
Their mustaches looking older
Than yr father's grave –
"Thanks Marshall" – "I reckon"
I guess I better run on back
To Whiskey Row, Colorada
& marry an old Tim McCoy Gal
Or turn off the tele vision, one –
You gotta go a long way in the West
To find a good man –
So close the book
The Courier, run by Steve, is a paper
Wearing a sunbonnet
Drive the cattle thru that silver wall
Help ladies to their hearse
Mouth in the sun
That oughta do till Mexican Drygulcher
Finds Redwing in the Shack
And Kwakiutls menstruate
Old Horses' necks by broken fences
Guns gone rust
I guess the gang got shot
Kid Dream
Hid
In the leaves
April 1958, Northport