The Story of Brawny Bill

Down the dusty street strode a brawny cowboy
With a flowing mustache of gold
He’d fought and killed many more men
Than any story ever told

His name was Bill, but they called him sir
A title he made very clear
For disrespect he wouldn’t take
He had a reputation that brought fear

A young lad just a night before
Trying to make a name
Had called him out onto the streets
Looking for some one to blame

The boy had lost his horse
While playing poker throughout the night
He claimed that Bill had done it
He was looking for a fight

So on a mid summer’s morning
Brawny Bill and the gangly lad
Laid out upon the streets
For the biggest battle the town had had

The two stood no further
Than about twenty yards apart
With two long barreled pistols
Most figured Bill would start

The boy shot first, nicked his arm
Bill looked down and saw the blood
Then he strode right up to the boy
And planted him in the mud

Townsfolk gathered along the streets
To watch the impending doom
They all feared for the life of the boy
His time would come to soon

But in a moment of mercy
That surprised them all
Bill reached down and grabbed the boy
Helping him from the fall

The boy looked astonished in disbelief
For he knew his life had been spared
And for just a second,
He wondered if Bill really cared

His thought was soon answered
And to the townsfolk’s glee
Bill bent the boy over
His old worn out knee

He wailed and he wailed
His belt flew up high
Landing on the boys bottom
As the town watched him cry

And when he was done
He looked the boy in the eye
“Hope you learned a lesson
be glad your still alive”

The lad just stood there, his eyes filled with fright
So with a big hearty laugh, Bill said
“Next time you take aim,
better aim more to the right”

I write down this verse
From what I remember in my head
Sometimes I can still feel my bottom sting
But hell at least I’m not dead