Dead or Alive

I lashed my horse, I dug my spurs, I cursed my quarry’s lead
He was a cur, a curse, but worth reward, the most cowardly of thieves

My back; it hurt, my calves; they burned, my eyes were made of lead
His stolen horse more fresh, but not better bred than was old Revenge

In a flash his horse collapsed; the stolen cask cast across the grass
I stood above the wanted man, his fate held with pistol in my hand

All thieves of one cloth are cut, a bunch of drunks, and sinful thugs
Thus the law needs those like me, doin’ what justice is wantin’ of

Dead or alive, the latter ride lighter, or I would’ve then killed that liar
I didn’t trust him much, but I trussed him up, and sat him by the fire

Jumping up, like scalded cat, be damned I must’ve slept
I saddled up then took a swig to make sure I wasn’t dead

I followed the furrow where had rolled the barrel, path clear for all to see
By end of day, I’d make him pay, this time he stole that rum from me

So keen was his need for the rum’s release, thievin’ fiend left me alive,
Not just alive, but with horse to ride, gun at my side; death writ in my eyes

Covered in mud, hands blistered with blood, sweat-drenched, and dead tired
That sot, scum, scoundrel, thieving liar; thought himself free when I fired

Bleedin’ was he, but didn’t flee, instead he just bent at his task
Drift and mallet he drew, and in spite of his wound, he worked the first hoop off the cask

Afraid that the fool would waste the rum, in such haste for a taste
I had to steady the shake in my hand, take aim, and fire again

I watched a flower bloom in violent, crimson petals from his chest
Havin’ killed so much and so well as have I, I’d no need to watch his death

Ain’t much fun collection’ the ones who fall to the fire of my gun
But as I neared I nearly danced, on my way down to claim me’ rum

Those last squelching steps of wretched stroll, sucked at the leather of my soles
I didn’t know what tugged at my soul; I shivered then, though I wasn’t cold

I cursed my luck: rum gone to mud, so I lashed out like beast gone feral
I kicked the final hoop that held the staves at the bottom of the barrel

Falling like dusk to make a halo in the blood, those staves fell away
To reveal a rum-embalmed angel laying next to her empty grave

I looked to the grave the cooper’s hand dug at last wish of his wife
Man unarmed, shot from afar, robbed both of honour and of life

His crime was of the heart, to be judged by none but love, the real crime was mine
This whole time, I was the drunk and the liar, and I felt dust tug at my eye

I had lost my course, but I dug my spurs, I cursed my sorry need
I was a cur, a curse, not worth my horse, most cowardly of fiends