Texas Justice

By Bronco T

He trots ol’ “Blue Dollar”, into the yard,
He’s takin’ chances, by dealing this card.

Out of the doorway, of the cantina they walk,
Frowns on their faces, that’d make weaker men balk.

He guides his ol’ hoss, up to the rack’
Keepin’ the sun, behind his back.

He steps off ol’ Dollar, and onto the ground,
His Mexican spurs, make a jinglin’ sound.

These bandits are tough ones, he know that is true,
With his hand near his revolver, he keeps them in view.

He can tell that their puzzled, by the looks on their faces,
They’d like to take him, but they keep their places.

He keeps ol’ “Blue Dollar”, between him and them,
That ol’ horse warrior, is more than a friend.

There’s a moment of silence, as they look him over,
Do we take him on ?, or dive for cover !

He’s searchin’ for Carlos, that bandit killer,
He raided a ranch, that belonged to Bart Miller.

Carlos had caught them, while they were asleep,
Butchered the family, their possessions to keep.

The bodies were found, by a passing sheep herder,
Who ran into town, crying out murder.

The Ranger was called, to take on the case,
He rode to the ranch, with a scowl on his face.

It didn’t take long, to read the sign,
They drove all the livestock, towards the Mexican line.

He mounted “Blue Dollar”, no time to waste,
He’d find these bandits, and give them a taste,
Of a little Texas Justice.

Crossing the border, he followed their tracks,
To the little cantina, their caution was lax.

Carlos Mantano, his back to the wall,
If he pulls a gun, he’s the first one to fall.

The Ranger speaks slowly, his spanish is fine,
He says, “You raided Texas, and now you are mine.”

He sees Carlos’ hand, that it rests near his gun,
Then suddenly he moves, to start the fun.

The Ranger’s hand flashes, the Colt’s pistol barks,
On Carlos’ shirt, appear to tiny round marks.

The Ranger yanks the Winchester, from out of its case,
To cover the others, with shock on their face.

Into the air, their hands all go,
Carlos’ death, is really a blow.

He ties them together, with rawhide strings,
They’ll walk back to Texas, to find what justice brings.

It’s not far to the border, the river they’ll wade,
The they’ll hang from a limb, till for their crimes they have paid.

On Texas soil, where he left them to swing,
Now that’s Texas Justice, all true Texan’s will sing.