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.

Kit Ross: back shooter

Kit Ross was a Cherokee half-breed
Who lived by a selfish creed
He started a feud
With an action quite rude
He rode into the Davis' house on a steed

Jonathan Davis ejected the drunk
With a few choice words, like "you skunk"
He protected his wife
Who was sick during the strife
And did not need the hassle from a punk

Davis let the event fade away
While Ross let hatred gain sway
After two years passed
Ross' time came at last
To pull the trigger on a sad sorry day

Davis said he thought there'd be snow
And Ross agreed with him... though
He then drew his piece
And two shots did release
And both to his back don't you know

It was obvious Ross had been drinking
When he gave-in to this criminal inkling
But then at Fort Smith
His plea turned to myth
He would not go free cuz' booze did his thinking

No boozer believes in responsibility
He told the jury, "they done it to me"
And the day of his sentence
Still no repentance
He'd go to his Maker still ignorant as can be

Dutch Henry: outlaw

German born of Dutch descent his name was Henry Borne
Dutch Henry was his alias that many men would scorn
By a twist of fate
He chose the states
And became a person no one would mourn

A member of the 7th CAV, known for Custer's folly
Mustered out in the sixties, he was anything but jolly
He joined the ranks of fools
Stole twenty government mules
And he was arrested soon after, by golly

At Fort Smith he was taken and charged with the crime
Then sent off to prison to do all his time
But three months was enough
He thought it too rough
So he escaped from the grit and the grime

He soon built a rep that was second to none
A horse thief with a gang up to 300 guns
He'd send forth the word
And they'd bring in the herd
The law wanted Dutch who he kept on the run

Well, Bat Masterson finally took ol' Dutch in
Only to find out he escaped justice again
The law was encumbered
But Dutch's days were numbered
He soon found himself doing twenty in the pen

When he got out he wanted to sob
He found that progress put him out of a job
The horse was "has been"
The auto now "in"
So for the rest of his days he was a miserable slob

Richard "Dick" Smith: outlaw

When Tom Pringle took a stroll Dick Smith gunned him down
In the Choctaw Nation, near Wheelock he was found
They say that Smith tried
The dirty deed to hide
But they found his boot print on the bloody muddy ground

Smith removed the tacks from the soles of his shoes
Trying to get away with murder by making new clues
But the holes left behind
Still matched up real fine
So they hung him at Fort Smith while singing the blues

Malachi Allen: lost temper, lost arm, lost life

Have ya' heard of Malachi Allen?

He was just another foolish felon

who thought pure cussedness would serve him well.

He swore his life was goin' ta' Hades,

as a gunman in the eighteen-eighties,

but if it was... his choices paid the bill.

He quarreled with Cy an' Shadrach

over a saddle an' tack,

an' shot them both dead in the Chickasaw Nation.

It was the fifteenth of July

when he done in Shadrach an' Cy,

proven he cared not a wit fer' human relations.

A posse was assembled,

of his peers it did resemble,

an' Deputy Marshall McAlester led the way.

They cornered the desperado,

but peacefully he would not go,

so they fought a vicious gun battle that day.

Malachi came ta' harm

with a bullet in his arm,

he tried ta' fight but could not pull the trigger.

So he was apprehended,

his futile flight up-ended,

the posse saw the irony an' snickered.

To Fort Smith they all came,

where Isaac Parker gained fame,

as the judge who loved ta' hang 'um high.

Malachi's arm they did amputate,

another casualty of his hate,

but it did not stop his appointed day ta' die.

On the gallows he heard townfolk jest,

as they watched in their Sunday best,

cuz' a hangin' party was a big event.

Now too late ta' be undone,

the cruel acts he did fer' fun,

one final drop an' he would be Hell bent.