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Published: Apr 13, 2015

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Literature Text

only better when the moon is gone
we ride and rope till bloody dawn
Carrie-Anne was a diamond on the rocks
why she stayed I'll never know

she listened to my tales of rough and tumble
with the boys on the ridge
when we'd ride across the Mackenzie
and tear into Little Knife Saloon

one night we were playing faro
and losing to Big Jim Collins
the temp was 88
and the scotch was an 1895

well, the final hand was dealt
twas' death upon the felt
Handsome John pulled a nickel-plate 45
and dropped Big Jim on the sawdust floor

Pete, Wade, and I stood there in silence
while the fanblades churned the smoky air
Handsome John walked out to his horse
and into the night he rode away

Carrie-Anne brushed her hand across my brow
as we looked into the campfire smoldering on
'You boys think you're so tough' said she
'Depends who you're askin' , I replied