To A Dying Outlaw

“It seems to me,” the old man said,

As he looked away out west.

“To die out here beside my horse…

It seems that would be best.”

 

“For many years I’ve spent upon

My faithful stallion true,

And I can swear upon his grave

It’s better me than you.”

 

“For sins I’ve done, I’ll pay the price,

The desert high it calls…

Right now the sunset beckons me,

And soon the curtain falls.”

 

I saw the old man slump a bit.

The blood was pooling fast.

“So, mark my words here, stranger, please,

For these will be my last.”

 

“The desert high will kill a man,

And take his years away.

So slowly do the sands collect.

That’s all I have to say.”

 

“But did you rob the bank down there

Down in the valley yon?”

He gazed at me and curled his lip,

“I’ve said my peace, be gone.”