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Old western movies
A judge in the west
Coming from the south
With ruby sideburns, boy
Always using flowery language
The grim fighting hero's troubles
Are always private
He wants to know
Where I fit in in her books
Sometimes you see villains so ancient
You saw them in infancy
Exaggerating in snow
Their moustaches looking
Older than your father's grave
Thanks, marshal
I reckon
I guess I better run on back
To Whiskey Row, Colorado
And marry an old Tim McCoy gal
Or turn off the television one
You gotta go a long way in the west
To find a good man
So close the book
The courier run by Steve
Is a paper wearing a sunbonnet
Drive the cattle through that silver wall
Tell please to their hearse
Melt in the sun
That ought to do it
Till a Mexican dry gulcher
Finds Red Wing in the shack
And quack-dee-oos menstruate
Old horses next by broken fences
Guns gone rust
I guess the gang got shot
Kid dream hid in the leaves
April 1958
Northport
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