Wyatt The Earp Poem by George Hunter

Wyatt the Earp
He makes me burp.
‘Cause he was the best
Way out in the West.
Shot every outlaw that he saw
Didn't even give ‘em a chance to draw.
Just couldn't give them an even chance
To get that sixgun outta their pants.
He was a lawman in Tombstone, Arizona
Before they invented the great i-phona.
He had a Colt Buntline with a twelve-inch tube
A tap on the head could make you a boob.
Cleaned up the town of all the bad guys
Then had him a bag of McDonald's fries.
One day to beef up the town's morale
Met his enemies at the O.K. Corral.
Killed three gunmen and a dozen steers
Then went and drank him some shots and beers.
They wrote books and songs about his deeds
But now he's pushin' up the weeds.
In a lonely plot on old Boot Hill
And his brave exploits are with us still.
It's mostly lies, but what the hey,
Something to read to pass the day.
So here's a toast to you dear Wyatt
A couple more of these and I'll be quiet