Little Texana Prince And The Chance Musterman Gang Poem by Hubert Wilson

Confederate cavalry raiders were decades in the past.
Hardscrabble farm children pretended they were still secretly amassed.
Relishing every feigning outlaw game.
Imaginative Texana Prince a robber became.
Searching the eerie boulders of remote Devil's Den.
Trenchantly mulling what might have been.
Improbable angry voices she DID hear?
Nudging up and over the large boulder formation.
Aghast - a real life brigand confrontation!

Excited by what she saw!
Malevolent Chance Musterman and his entire criminal gang in the draw!
Mixing prolific amounts of corn whisky and most vile words!
Anxious by what she heard!
Just staying still and quiet!
Eavesdropping on the virtual drunken bandit riot!
After a few hours -
Noticeablly all wilted in the evening heat like spring flowers!

Jostling through the rocks -
Over the snoring Chance like a plundering fox!
Nocturnal theft of the gang's bag of gold!
Exceedingly bold -
Snookering the entire gang was this freckled, pigtailed ten year old!

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And that's not all she took from Chance Musterman?