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