When Dalton looked like Dooley
it was
Tom and his brother trying to fool me
and
I am easily taken in,
they blamed ya
for letting the pin drop
on a chamber
but
it was Wesson’s fault.
Innocent until we swing
and then watch
the canaries sing
we’ll end up sewing mailbags
or stitching names onto
calico toe-tags,
the bars are never open here
no chance of beer
not much chance of anything.
© 2020, John Smallshaw.
