TITLE: The Preacher By Larry Dudley 06/04/11 |
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As I come to the edge of this one horse town
It's so late no one's around
A single coal lamp burns soft and low
Just need a place for my gear to stow
I point twards the livery and cluck to jake
A slight ring of dust does each hoof make
The smell of this town like so many before
A bar and grill some houses and stores
This job I have like so many others
There's them that care and some it bothers
To get up each morning before daylight
To sharpen my wit and study my fight
I know there are people who'd rather me gone
They'll curse me and stone me and call me a con
I capture a stall for me and old jake
pray there's no mice for both our sake
the dawn comes cracking cold and crisp
I look down the street the fog just a wisp
To know the welcome that I will get
It's more often cold and deliberate
I'm the person they want when in a bind
The one for them to hide behind
To take the shots that they deserve
To stand tall and straight not to bend or curve
It's here it starts the battle of just one kind
With hopeful heart some souls to find
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