He carried a six gun, upon his hip,
A badge pinned to his shirt.
Big and rangy, never took no lip,
If you mouthed off, you'd swallow dirt.
He rode his old buckskin so many years,
He tamed the streets of Dodge.
With Doc and Chester, he calmed the fears,
Of those under his watch.
Then there was Kitty who cried each time,
He was shot up again.
Hers was a love more than sublime,
Far more than happiness, it gave her pain.
But old Dillon had just one love,
And Kitty just got old.
Though he loved her dear, his sweet soiled dove,
She stayed out in the cold.
Dillon was a lawman to the bitter end,
One of the few left in the world.
Because to the law he had to tend,
He never got the girl.
R.I.P. James Arness. Americas Marshall.
3/1/12 Alton Texas
Juan Olivarez's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Dillon by Juan Olivarez )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(November 1, 1871 – June 5, 1900)
(25 August 1962 -)
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