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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Western · #2131226
Gunfighter Ballad, Song.
Death Rides a Pale Horse.

That Sunday began like any Sabbath day
all the good folks in town a kneeling to pray.
Preacher pledging the fires of Hell to the damned
blessing those who’d been washed in the blood of the lamb.

When Willy McAllister burst through the door
yelled the Bank had been robbed by a band of outlaws.
The sheriff hadn’t even gone for his gun
when the three outlaws drew and they fired as one.

The town cowered in fear by the mid afternoon
the three'd taken over the Red Dog saloon.
Laughing an bragging and shooting their guns
yelling down the street that they'd kill everyone.

They beat the bar tender then shoved him outside
filled him with lead as he plead for his life.
The preacher ran out and he begged them to go
but the three cut him down as he prayed for their souls.

Then a grim looking stranger rode into town
Dressed in black on a pale horse, just at sundown.
A messenger of death hung low on his side
in the form of a pearl handled Colt forty-five.

He told of the bad things his cousin had done
that one was his brother the other his son.
He'd trailed the three outlaws for twenty-one days
he wouldn’t stay long he'd soon be on his way.

He reined in his horse by the Red Dog saloon
three came to the door as the stranger stepped down.
They stood for a moment then grabbed for their guns
three shots rang out that all sounded as one.

The smoke cleared away as a crowd gathered round
the three outlaws before them lay dead on the ground.
The grim looking stranger put his gun away
turned to the crowd and he bid them good day.

Then up on the pale horse still all dressed in black
he rode out of town and he didn't look back.
It happened this way just at sundown
the Sunday that death rode a pale horse to town.

You can listen to the song on Youtube at this link.
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