Dedicated to Big Tom Fegan…. Big Tom and Strawberry Pete; or Sour Grapes in the Street of Cow Town: (A lusty saga about the streets of Fort Worth in 1890, by g. green wood.) When the Law Dog Big Tom, rode into Cow Town, he was riding his stallion names Son Every card sharp in town, they gulped and they frowned, and took off all of their guns The herds had ambled right thru their village. The townies had turned out in schools The stock pens were loaded, the pens was bloated, the cattle was tired from the bulls The herds’d been tallied n’ now they’re asleep, poor little doggies, they’re out on their feet Forty head a cattle couldn’t fit in the pens, they went off and left them, right there in the street The herds had attracted a bad cattle thief, a hustler, a rustler, the worst kind you could meet The Ranchers despised him for he was a thief, the law, they was a looking, for Strawberry Pete When Big Tom stepped down from his Cayuse; he had been watching all round Cow Town The big dogs, they hid out, clear out of bounds; them little dogs they hid out under ground Tom figgured he’d meet this cow stealing hombre, this rustler named Strawberry Pete. Strawberry Pete, he had summated bad views, about Tom, and the Big Law Dog’s feet Tom checked all the jute joints on Houston, then went looking in the ones on Main He went on and checked them on Throckmorton too, then clear out past Clover Lane By this time Tom’s feet they was giving him fits, so he sat down and took off both boots As for them boots, the question was moot, because Tom, just didn’t give a hoot He sat there and aired out both of his socks as he rested his bunions and feet Tom’s feet smelled so bad, the breakfast he’d had, he up chucked it, right on the street Tom sat there and rested then whistled for his horse, that nag, he came in a flash That pony he blew, then whinnied, and Tom knew, his horse was plumb tuckered at last. Tom boarded his stallion and trotted away, he thought he’d go find him some law He reckoned he should locate that Sheriff, and warn him about Pete’s fast draw The sheriff he’d been drinking at Fat Stella’s Place, he liked her saloon the most When Tom told the sheriff about Strawberry Pete, he turned plumb white as a ghost Tom settled his six-guns, two Colt’s 44s, as he left thru them two swinging doors. He’d reminded the sheriff, that Strawberry Pete, would be history, sometime around four. The Sheriff remarked he was leaving the town, he told Tom he’d be gone for a month. His deputy sheriff, took off his badge, and said he had come down with the mumps. Undertaker Melche,r hired on some more helpers, he knew that he wouldn’t be slow. Both barkeeps was filling up bottles like crazy, they knew that gun fights meant dough. Big Tom, he tied down both his holsters; then he slipped in extra forty four shells The town knew full well, that when one hombre fell, the other man, he’d go to hell. Big Tom, walked out in that dusty old street, he went looking for Strawberry Pete. He spied Pete coming right towards him, Pete was afoot in the middle of the street. The distance it was closed in a heartbeat, and at twenty feet, they both drew their guns. Four guns, were blasting, and no longer then it lasted, Big Tom he knew he’d just won. Poor Strawberry Pete, he lay riddled with slugs and was dying there in Cow Town. Pete whispered to Tom, so faintly, so quietly, and asked Big Tom to kneel down, Strawberry Pete, as he died at Tom’s feet,… told him…… “I hope you get yours soon, you Damn Clown.”
Posted on: Tue, 19 Nov 2013 00:37:48 +0000
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