This one is dedicated to the memory of my 10th Grade English teacher, John H. Hepp III — an instructor who through his expectations could extract poetry from just about anyone, and inspired my poetic leanings. Thanks Mr. Hepp.
This is the tale of Satan’s Son
A gunner of the West,
Whose draw they say was quick as light
To prove it was his quest.
When he was young, his parents knew
Their boy would grow up fell,
For on his arm, you could see
The devil’s mark did swell.
He grew up fast and learned life’s rules
That fate had wicked ways,
A killer shot his family dead
And brought the spiteful days.
All of his life, he built up hate
And gunned his way to fame,
With devil’s eyes and light-quick strike
He made himself a name.
Many’ve tried to take Satan’s Son
So, he’d let loose his lead,
Without a falter in his stare
He’d drop each one stone dead.
The Son’s name grew, his gun did too
When this lone man appeared
Who wore a six-gun at his side
And called himself Grey Beard.
Now Grey Beard was a wanderer
Who faced life’s worst and won,
When Satan’s boy confronted him
He said this: “Listen, Son…
You best quit while you still can
Though you’re the devil’s spawn
You’ll soon see a mortal like me
Can leave you well out-drawn.”
So Satan’s Son reached for his gun
To plug him with a round
But Grey Beard’s shot first hit the spot.
The Son fell to the ground.
Thus goes the tale of Satan’s Son
A gunner of the West.
His draw no doubt WAS quick as light
‘Till he was put to rest.
Copyright 1985, Mike Levin