I can't say fer' sure
but I do reckon
demons can reside in men.
They act the cur,
as if they were beckoned,
like outlaw John Thornton.
Jumbo John,
or Tub, Tubby, Tub'o'lard Thornton
was as evil as they get.
He beat his wife,
molested an' raped his daughter,
an' that ain't the worst of it yet.
The little gal
married her sweetheart pal
in a bid fer' a new life an' freedom.
But her pervert pa
clenched his jaw
an' swore ta' get between 'um.
The drunken sod,
who feared not God,
adhered to Hell's manifesto.
The honeymoon was bust,
it succumbed ta' blood lust:
John shot her with his pistol.
The trial was short,
a revenge seeking court:
"You will hang by yer' neck until dead."
On June twenty-eight,
eighteen-ninety an' two,
the noose nearly took off his head.
It was no surprise,
considerin' his size,
that his head nearly left his bod.
It was now too late,
as John met his fate,
with a new found fear of God.
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