They Hung Him Twice

William Wilson was a gunman,
          the lowest kind of all:
A no-account bushwacker,
          who shot his ex-boss from behind a wall.
They hung him once and cut him down,
          he awoke and said, "I survive."
So they hung him again and he woke up in Hell
          claiming, "Hell, I'm burning alive!"

Ison Dart: cowboy to cattle rustler

Ison Dart was one of the rare
          black gunmen in the west.
But he had the misfortune
          to cross paths with one of the best.
From cowboy to cattle rustler,
          near a part of Wyoming called Brown's Hole.
But when Dart and the gang stepped out
          one morning to checkout what they stole,
Two shots rang out
          and tore open Dart's head;
A gruesome sight to see
          as he lay there dead.
The gang coward back in the cabin,
          and abstained from gun play,
As Tom Horn, who took the shots,
          casually mounted and rode away.

The Two-Fisted Marshal: Thomas "Bear River" Smith

As a cop in New York on a tough Bowery beat,
Thomas "Bear River" Smith learned to never retreat.
He headed out West before
The tragic Civil War:
At first hauling freight before cleaning the street.

He took to cleaning when they gave him a star.
It weren't always easy, not easy by far.
In one vigilante rattle,
Fourteen died in the battle,
And it caused Smith to carry a deep unseen scar.

He still carried his pistol, but more often used skin.
He was a bare knuckle brawler with a sure knack to win.
From Bear River to Kit Carson,
And to Abilene like a parson,
He fought to keep peace when he brought outlaws in.

A brother lawman asked Smith to bring in two prey.
He took after Andrew McConnell and Moses Miles right away.
But Smith was waylaid,
And ax-chopped with a blade.
A sad tragic end to his legacy that day.

Poker Alice

Alice Ivers would become better known as "Poker Alice."
A teen bride whose husband was older and callous.
But he taught her about cards
With tricky sharps and friendly pards,
And it birthed a dream about having her own poker palace.

She was still a teen when she moved to Deadwood,
Where she was asked if she could deal cards, and she could.
Her husband was soon dead,
She became devoted to gambling instead,
And roamed the West like any good sharp would.

She smoked big black cigars and downed shots of whiskey.
She played for high stakes and dared to be risky.
She knew when to hold,
And she knew when to fold,
And there were times she did both if she began to feel frisky.

One thing she despised was a gambler who'd cheat.
And word got around that she always packed heat.
Her purse draw was quick,
And her dress draw quite a trick,
But more often than not the cheat would beat feet.

Alice was back up in Deadwood one August day,
When she was asked by Wild Bill Hickok if she wished to play.
But she couldn't sit in,
She had a promised game to win,
But she got a funny feeling as she turned to walk away.

Sometime later she heard a shot then shout.
She rushed to Saloon No. 10 to see what it's about.
Hickok lay dead.
Back-shooter McCall fled.
But they soon found the quivering cowardly lout.

As time moved on Alice married once more.
But his mediocre ways brought trouble to the door.
But when a man knifed her hubby,
She gut-shot the tubby,
And left him bellerin' and bleeding on the floor.

With a big win she bought a big spread.
But life threw in some unexpected dread.
The ranch flopped,
Her hubby dropped,
And Alice thought all her dreams were now dead.

Alice moved to Rapid City, a thriving western hub.
She found herself a new dream, sorta' like an English pub.
Just playing her cards,
And drinking with pards,
She never got her palace, but lived the rest of her life with a poker club.

Killing Gunman Bill Dunn

Bill Dunn was a hunter of men.
Hunting bounties was the trade of he and his kin.
Calvin, George, Dal, and Bee,
Brothers in a bloody family.
They spent most of their time engaged in some sin.

A road ranch was owned by the Brothers Dunn.
It was sometimes used by men on the run.
The men would salivate
Over teenage Rose, the bait,
Til each of her brothers came with a gun.

When Charley Pierce and Bitter Creek Newcomb came to spend the night,
They were caught by surprise like a deer in the light.
As a matter of course
Each stabled their horse,
Then were waylaid with an ambush done right.

When loading the bodies for a trip to town,
Newcomb -- thought dead -- started coming around.
No thought of their sister,
Just "a glass of water, Mister,"
But they sent him to Hell where no water is found.

Bill Dunn was with the posse that dropped Bill Doolin the same way.
But the townsfolk started wondering about their sense of fair play.
Bill tried to shift blame,
Using Frank Canton's name;
But his mouth charged a debt his body would have to pay.

Deputy Sheriff Canton faced Dunn on the streets of Pawnee.
And Dunn drew first for all witnesses to see.
But Canton was faster
To trigger his blaster,
And a head shot sent Bill Dunn to Death's mystery.

Hang the Archer Gang

The Archer Gang was a set of four brothers,
Who took after the Reno's and a slew of others.
Their reign of crime
Spanned decades of time
And they share the blame with moral-less fathers and mothers.

The Archers robbed stagecoaches, travelers, and trains.
Then they hid among kin like wheat among grains.
The Dalton's and James,
The Fords and other lames,
Had similar families with outlaw-like brains.

They played the "good neighbor" until money ran low,
Then they grabbed pistols and shotguns and got up to go.
They roamed far and wide
To fleece others then hide,
But their years of success just darkened each soul.

After years on the run a mad posse came callin'.
And when their women-folk heard they all started bawlin'.
Tom, John, and Mort,
Vigilantes did abort
With nooses 'round necks that sparked caterwallin'.

The youngest brother Sam made it to trial,
And was quickly convicted and lost his smug smile.
A noose was soon fetched
And Sam's neck was stretched,
And the townsfolk commenced to party awhile.

History records the Archer Gang with one of the longest crime waves.
But the end was still the same: it sent them to their graves,
Where the outlaw soul
Has one place to go,
To Hell's deepest hole with the volcanic caves.

The Head and Heart of the "Oklahoma Guardsmen."

Some men who wore a star were as bad as those they trailed.
But others had integrity and felt all law breakers should be jailed.
Evett Nix was one
Who used brain before gun,
And wished all outlaws, instead of victims, wailed.

Nix was Marshal over the Oklahoma Territory.
It was a vast expanse known for gore and glory.
Nix was spread too thin
So he hired more men:
Each of them top lawmen with a better story.

Frank Canton was associated with the Johnson County War.
And Chris Madsen had fought with Garibaldi on a foreign shore.
But the two known best
For their deeds in the West,
Were Thomas and Tilghman for their blood, guts, and gore.

Nix was the first marshal to ever deputize Heck Thomas.
'Cause he was good with a gun, had grit, and showed promise.
When settling the West
You go with the best,
'Cause justice works better with a law make, not a law miss.

When Bill Tilghman came from Dodge City he was a gunman feared.
But when he brought in Bill Doolin five thousand townsfolk cheered.
In the badge wearin' game
Tilghman earned fame;
Til shot dead by Wiley Lynn, a drunkin' coward who sneered.

When Nix' Oklahoma Guardsmen took control
The territorial crime wave began to slow.
All that was needed
Was for the law to be heeded,
When tough honest men bring their guns to the show.

Colorado Bill and the Hanging Judge

William Elliott, also known as "Colorado Bill;"
He didn't grow up a real man, just one who knew how to kill.
Four dead in four states
While Justice just waits,
And Bill stayed in the Choctaw Nation for a spell.

Then Bill killed David Brown and his soul became darker.
But the law ran him down and sent him off to Judge Parker.
Fort Smith's "Hanging Judge,"
On the law he wouldn't budge,
So Bill was hung and buried with a two-bit marker.

Sent to his Maker by a Preacher's Son

Cassius "Cash" Hollister -- once a mayor, but often a lawman --
Had a raucous temperament, more fitting to an outlaw clan.
But outlaws were bust,
Cash earned the town's trust
In the kill or be killed peace officer plan.

Cash was once fined for assaulting Frank Hunt.
With temper in check, lawbreakers took the brunt.
Then came a surprise,
To hear of Cash's demise,
Shot twice by the gun of a preacher's naughty runt.

Dynamite Dick Dead in the Dirt

Daniel Clifton, also known as "Dynamite Dick,"
Cattle rustling and bank jobs were his chosen shtick.
With his criminal resume,'
He joined Bill Doolin's "Oklahombres,"
With pistols and black powder his favorite tricks.

But an outlaw career can be boom or bust.
It ain't no position to instill some trust.
Yer' pals are all varmints
Who wear blood-stained garments,
And when you retire it's face down in the dust.

While the Doolin Gang took the bank in Southwest City,
They killed J.C. Seaborn, and it wasn't pretty.
Doolin and Clifton were jailed;
Bribed a guard: the system failed,
But the posse that followed had sand and were gritty.

"Every man for himself" is the fugitive code.
Find a place to hole up and drop all yer' load.
Clifton was found on a farm,
Tried to escape without harm,
But he was shot on the run and lay dead on the road.

Lawmen and Liquor Don't Mix

George Flatt was a lawman in Kansas,

who also co-owned a saloon.

They said he had grit,

was as tough as they get,

and his six-gun could carry a tune.

On July the seventh,

in eighteen-seventy-and-nine,

Jake Adams and George Wood

were up to no good,

just drinkin' and shootin'

and thinkin' it's fine.

Now Constable Kelly and Deputy Wilson

with Flatt and Kiser by their side,

came in for a gander

and up went their dander

as bullets whizzed by close and wide.

Wilson was wrist-shot,

and Kiser was head-shot.

Thank God it was only a graze.

And Flatt killed both outlaws:

Adams and Wood.

I think he just earned him a raise.

Flatt became marshall and upheld the peace,

but he had him a habit to drink.

Bending the elbow

and tipping the mug

can be just as bad as the opium drug;

just try them and then try to think.

Well, Flatt had a few,

and then a few too many;

some might say he was "dead drunk."

But he got up and staggered

and tried to get home,

too wasted to smell a near skunk

He was shot from behind,

it severed his spine

right at the base of his skull.

Two men were suspected,

Horseman and Hunt,

but the Hangman never would pull.

They say justice failed

'cause neither suspect was jailed.

But I say, if you think they got away

think again.

'Cause ol' Frank and Bill

are roasting in hell,

since crime unrepented is sin.



Lynching Robert Lacy

Have you heard 'bout Robert Lacy, the outlaw, gunman, and gambler?
Shot several men down New Mexico way, roamin' the state like a rambler.
Some say he had a death omen
So he headed north to Wyomin'
And supported himself as a cheatin' card handler.

Up in Rawlins he continued the shady play.
Tapping out the citizens: several suckers a day.
But the town grew wise.
It sparked fire in their eyes.
And shouting vigilantes soon led the way.

They stormed the saloon where Lacy played draw and stud.
They grabbed him and his pal: another card sharping crud.
Both were dragged out
Amidst bellow and shout,
Then noosed and lynched, and cut down with a thud.

Gunfighter: Jim Riley

Gunfighter Jim Riley was slow to gall.
But don't be fooled, he was quick on the draw.
There ain't much about him in western folklore,
Except one event with blood, guts, and gore.

Minding his business, just sipping his brand,
When in walk three 'pokes with pistols in hand.
The one in the lead stomps up to his friend,
And barks aloud like a stinkin' gut wind.

All hell broke loose when triggers were pulled,
And Riley's blood boiled as if it were brewed.
The first thing he did was lock the front door
Before he began to settle the score.

First, another friend gave it a go.
Got gut-shot instead, a death painful and slow.
When Riley took aim and let bullets fly,
Most hit their mark, and more men did die.

Two to the legs and the instigator fell.
Riley's first regret: not sending him to hell.
But the other two had no such luck,
They took lead in the chest: forgot to duck.

Blood was still pumping, Riley was hyped.
Confusion took over, common sense wiped.
Riley turned and saw a man by the door,
Raised his six-shooter and fired once more.

The man was unarmed, just trying to vacate.
He should've stayed low, and not tempted fate.
Some say he was lucky not to have died,
But the rest of his life he wanted to hide.

The bullet tore off the tip of his nose.
The poor guy had nothing to hold when he blows.
Riley regretted mistake number two;
Leavin' him noseless, he felt like a fool.

Now the Newton General Massacre's known far and wide;
Second only to Tombstone, where bodies abide.
But Riley would fade from gun play and history,
Adding to the truth -- an air of mystery.

Hard Headed or Brainless: Outlaw Marvin Kuhms

"J.W. Wilson," the alias of Marvin Kuhms
Was most likely born under a whiskey moon.
Bank robber and thief,
Ten years spreading grief,
With the big bully style of a modern-day goon.

Instead of caressing curvaceous buns,
Kuhms was known to sleep with two guns.
So the posse he'd meet
Came in with stocking feet
And surprised him like a bad case of the runs.

Marshall Laird told him not to draw,
And waved his six-shooter close to Kuhms jaw.
But the ornery cuss
Did what he must,
Only to be shot in the head by the law.

Somehow Kuhms survived his foolish attempt,
And was sent to the pen with indignant contempt.
So when Kuhms made parole
He again chose to go
And steal for himself the life that he dreamt.

He figured he'd have to put in some hustle
To make up lost time, so he started to rustle.
But another brain fart
Doomed his plan from the start:
A farmer shot him dead when fearing a tussle.

Farewell Elmore Leonard

from Elmer Leonard. com

The world seems a little bit darker now that Elmore Leonard -- who passed on August 20th -- has gone to the last round-up in the sky. His brand of western tale always took the reader to a place that was hard but understandable, and new, yet somehow familiar. And it was always a place to be entertained. So long, pardner. We’ll miss you, but we know that your legacy will continue.

If you haven’t had a chance to read the western fare by Elmore Leonard, you really ought to give yourself the opportunity. You can catch them all with “The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard,” and then move on to his non-western stories, since he had a far-reaching talent.

 
from Cowboys and Girls at pinterest. com

 

Outlaw and Unlucky Lover: James Jenkins

James Jenkins was an outlaw,
A profession he adored.
It's said that he killed ten red men,
With eight white men also scored.

Some died in Missouri,
And some down Texas way,
Others were killed in Iowa
And Cal-i-for-ni-a.

In the latter state,
Over in Napa City,
Jenkins gave his black heart
To a gal he thought was pretty.

The couple came together,
Even though she was a Misses.
He knew he had to have her;
Her heart is as dark as his is.

The unsuspecting hubby,
The poor slob, Patrick O'Brien,
Was befriended by Jenkins,
But was clueless 'bout his lyin'.

Then Jenkins let the Misses
Put him on the spot.
He would be the killer
In her murder plot.

She wanted her hubby gone.
In reality she said,
"Pull your pistol, Lover,
And shoot that bastard dead."

So Jenkins drank his courage
And did the dirty deed.
But he was caught and hanged,
While Mrs. O'Brien was freed.

A Lawless Lawman: Jack Helm

Jack Helm was a racist S.O.B.
Who wore the grey and favored slavery.
He even did wrong
Over a Yankee song
That a black man whistled with bravery.

And when there was no Civil War,
You could find him with a star that he bore
In the great state of Texas
Where he hated the Mex's,
And everyone else that's for sure.

Helm got caught-up in the Sutton-Taylor feud;
The type of duty that befit his evil mood.
A prime instigator,
He was head regulator,
And the days he didn't kill he'd sulk and brood.

His body count raised his reputation.
The Governor even gave him a new station.
But when deeds come to light
Causing citizens fright,
He's sent back to DeWitt for the duration.

John Wesley Hardin was one of Helm's foes:
A kin to the Taylor's, or so the story goes.
Several times they met,
Their back-ups vented and wet,
Yet Hardin and Helm escaped the death throes.

But in eighteen-seventy-three, in the month of July,
The two evil rivals would have one more try.
Helm came from the rear,
Hardin turned with a sneer,
To blast Helm with buckshot: his day to die.

Lincoln County War Survivor: Jim French

Jim French took part in the Lincoln County War.
From regulator to outlaw to settle a score.
Thought he flipped his lid
After joining Billy the Kid,
And nearly dying at McSween's general store.

French was there when Brady raved and cussed,
Just before he and Hindman bit the dust.
But the McSween episode
Turned his blood ice cold,
So he headed for "obscurity or bust."