So much more than just a gun
She was a family heirloom
Used to go out at first sun
Bring some meat back to our room
She belonged to grampa last
But I cain't say who had her first
She had spunk and sass
And those who crossed her were cursed
Grampa would let me use her
Told me to make him proud
I'd take that ol Remington with a "yessir! "
They could hear her fire from across town, the crack was so loud!
The fateful day we lost her
Was her very best
She shot down a rabie-fied curr
Even as he took her to her final rest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem