John Carter Brown
James Crawford-King Junior - Poem by John Carter Brown
James Crawford-King junior esquire
The man with a price on his head,
Was a lone desperado from Texas
And was wanted, living or dead.
A runner of guns and a killer
A thief, and a gambler of note;
A mean looking dude in his leathers,
With a stetson tied under his throat.
Sherrif Cody had sworn he would find him
For the innocent lives that he took;
This Crawford-King junior esquire
Who had slung both his guns and his hook.
Away o'er the dry golden prairies
He'd gone, so the sheriff was told;
So he headed that way with his posse,
But the trail was now hopelessly cold.
As cold as the night that descended
On Cody, his horse and his men;
But justice called loudly for vengeance
So at daybreak they rode out again.
Now El -Paso was quietly sitting
In the warm morning glow of the sun;
Knowing nothing of Crawford-King junior
Or the terrible deeds he had done.
There the lone desperado lay sleeping
With his colt 45 by his side;
Back in Texas the wives of his victims
Were weeping for those who had died.
Sheriff Cody burst into the bedroom
Just as Jimmy was lifting his head;
And the lead from the lawman's revolver
Made sure that King junior was dead.
Then the blue acrid smoke slowly lifted
To find things not quite what they seem:
I'd dropped off the lousy top bunk-bed,
And James Crawford-King junior? ...a dream!
Written Feb 1996
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