tagNon-Erotic PoetryBallad of Felicity Rose

Ballad of Felicity Rose


And they laughed as he came into town,
Hair too long, and clothes long worn,
"His eyes ain't right," whispered one.
"Best warn the others," a knowing nod,
"There's a stranger in our midst, tell one 'n all."

The bartender paled into them crooked eyes,
He tossed down a coin, "Gimme a beer."
"I saw death, pain, and the most awful cold,"
Whispered the barkeep to his wife, later that night,
With a sigh, "An I pissed in my pants."

And the saloon, became all morbid an' still,
His voice was quiet as he looked in the mirror,
"If'n you wanna slap leather, then I'm your man,"
"I'll give you a notch, yur compadre one, too."
Bravado done faded, the same with those two.

He drained his beer, and then called for another,
"Did you ask her name, before you ran her from town?"
Then he twisted about, his lips in a sneer,
The women did weep as their men did sigh,
And in that moment, that little town began to die.
"She was more than my woman,"
"I would've made her my wife," his voice cold, like Arctic ice.

"Which three of you try to take her?"
"An' make her yur own." His eyes burned blue flames.
"Three men on one, that don't hardly seem fair."
Six eyes knew the story, six eyes knew the truth,
"An I will take from them what they took from her,"
The big ol' clock over top the bar measured the time,
With a tick and a tock. And a thin voice raise, "We gots us the law."

He nodded at the parson, "She said, and one wore a star."
The silence was thick, and hung in the air,
And one yegg swaggered forward, brave on cheap rye,
"Let's lay this lout low, his time has come,"
They laughed as they stood, one, two and the third.

They mocked, "Three on one, hardly seems fair."
His sneer changed to a smile, unerving some thought,
The long coat shed, revealing his wares, hoglegs a pair,
The trio licked on nervous lips, as they felt his cold stare,
"When you see ol' Nick, tell 'im he's next," the stranger did say.
"The hell with you," the end man did say, as reached for his iron.

The room erupted like Vesuvius that day,
Smoke and fire, and explosions from both sides,
The three were wild in gulity haste,
While the stranger took his time, with his right and his left,
When the silence returned, the three men lay dead.

"Give me a beer, you son-of-a-bitch," he looked to the bar.
"Killin's done, and it's damn thirsty work."
A shot rang out, and caught the stranger in the back.
"She got it wrong you see, there were four." The thin voice smirked.

As the stranger twisted and crumpled as his arm came up,
A shot rang out, and the fourth was caught 'tween the eyes,
With eyes near sightless, "Did you ask her name?"
"She was my woman, and would be my wife."
"Felicity Rose," an he rattled his last breath.

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