Show THE POETS POET'S VERSE IS NOT SO WORSE 1 Dead Game Sports Spott headboards boards Here lie the dead neath hea stained by time I of or i In graves for tor rudest heaps E earth arth ea earth th were on Rough men whose hose lives lives- liveson black with crime Devoid of ot every mark of or honest worth In ways unnatural they me met with death deat they were hid In stained blood-stained garments from sight A curse clung to each victims victim's dying lyIng breath And hatred lit their eyes till dimmed of ot light With boots yet on their sinful feet teet they'll lie Till G Gabriels Gabriel's brIels brIel's trumpet echoes echoe from rom on high Here lies old Texas Texas Texas' Joe who wh who met me his i death From hand of one who w was s of f quicker uI ker fire tire And Tuscarora Sam whose f fund iund of ot breath Slipped from him he called Black BlackBill BlackBill BlackBill Bill a liar And here Is Poker Frank who tried to steal The frayed affection of Sport Dalys Daly's dame And that rude board stands over Brocky Teale Whom drink had made unsteady In his aim When with their shooters shooters' he and Grizzly Pete We Went t out to hunt each other on the street tre tHere t. t Here rests the up shot-up frame of Smoky Tim Whose stolen horse lacked necessary speed And close beside him sleeps old Greaser Greaser Jim Who ho was by vigilantes rop roped d and treed Just over there lies Sacramento Joe Who died with with- boots too full full of wrIggling wrIg wriggling wrig gling snakes And Just beyond they planted Tommy Lowe Who made a II fatal play to grab the stakes From off tf the table In a grame of draw draw- Bit off the boys said more than he could chaw Heres Bob BobS the Methodist an and sl Sleepy Sleep epi Ik Ike And Doughface Henderson and Whisky I Mack And poor Joe Bowers not the man from Pike And Fargo Dick and arid old Three-Fingered Three Jack j And others others names unknown lie lied in this spot And standing in this this this' border burial ground Rude and for comes the passing passIng- thought That when the dead wake at the trumpet trumpet trumpet trum trum- pet sound Old Gabriel will b be filled tilled with mute mate sur prise prise- To s see e this gang of thoroughbreds arise Denver Post Pst |