He strode into town,
A wayfaring stranger,
His haunting black eyes
An invitation to danger.
The gun on his belt
Had been recently shot.
“Seems like a bit
“Too much trouble,” I thought.
So as he turned left
And hitched up his horse
I turned to the right
And continued that course
‘Til I got to the city
And started to grin
Knowing that was a Western
I wouldn’t be in.
The Daily Travesty 