JAKE AND SHORTY
The day was hot when he was
born
Midst bushes low and full of
thorns.
Without the aid of doctor’s
skill,
Just mid-wife and his
mother’s will.
With serenade of howling wind.
In shanty house with roof of
tin.
And there he grew, a
ranch-hand’s son.
He learned to ride and use a
gun.
Roping, throwing, branding
steers
Hard work hardened through
the years.
A lot of man on stubby frame,
Shorty Briscoe was his name.
Jake Reed was another hand.
He and Shorty raised some
sand.
They worked from dawn to
setting sun,
Then went to town when work
was done.
Jake was tall, wiry and hard,
And Shorty Briscoe was his
Pard.
One weekend when the work was
done
They rode to town to have
some fun.
Ambling through the swinging
door
At Pecos
Rose’s as before.
They spied a stranger
standing there
A fancy Dan with perfumed
hair.
The stranger’s gun was tied
down low
With yellowed ivory grips for
show.
His eyes were steely gray and
mean,
Soft hands with fingers long
and lean.
He drank alone, but glanced their
way
Inviting them to make a play.
Jake just laughed and turned
away.
A grave mistake - He’d make
them pay.
The stranger called for Jake
to draw.
Jake moved and faced the pale
outlaw.
The gunman’s move was smooth
and fast
Jake hit the floor ‘neath fiery
blast.
There was Shorty standing
tall.
The bullet missed and hit the
wall.
The shootist knew he’d erred
that day
As Shorty Briscoe blazed
away.
When smoke had cleared, the
stranger fell;
Jake stood up alive and well.
Dennis Price
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