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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Anything about the West is fine reading by me, good one!