Classic Poem

Bill Riley was a cowboy and a quicker shot than him
There wasn't in the country, exceptin' Parson Sim.
And I reckon you could ride the trail from Texas to the line
And braver men than Bill and Sim I'll bet you couldn't find.
Bill, he was tall and lanky with black and piercing eyes
That seemed to flash like lightnin' when storm is in the skies.

His voice was soft and solemn-like, his heart was kind and true,
But he could paint the town as red as any man I knew.
Sim, he was mighty near as tall, with sunny eyes of blue
That seemed to laugh and sparkle, as eyes will sometimes do.
The boys they called him Parson, he owed it to his hair,
And to the classic language he'd use when he would swear.

They chummed as boys together and learned to shoot and ride,
Worked for the same cow out-fits, and grew up side by side.
One bed it always done for both, they used the same war sack,
Stuck up for one another, and all their money'd whack.
Well, Bill and Sim one winter, 'twas back in eighty-nine,
Were batchin' near a tradin' post up north close to the line—

And they was havin' rafts of fun and spendin' lots of coin
Between the little tradin' post and Old Fort Assenboin.
But one night they took in a dance and there they met a gal,
'Twas old Bucky Berry's daughter, his oldest daughter Val.
Her right name was Valentine, they called her Val for short,
She was as fine a little rose as bloomed in that resort.

Her hair was kinder yaller and shined like placer gold,
And on the hearts of Bill and Sim she got an awful hold.
So when she danced with other men, well, Bill he'd hit the rag,
And when Sim couldn't get her smiles he, too, would want a jag.
Waltz, quadrille, and polka was danced till break of day,
And both the fiddlers got so drunk the darn chumps wouldn't play.

Old Berry he was loaded too and pulled his forty-five,
And worked upon one musician like bees upon their hive.
But ne'er a tune could Berry with all his labor get,
The women folks put on their wraps and dancin' had to quit.
'Twas then the bloody fight was fit, the worst I ever saw,
And I have seen some red hot scraps come off without a flaw.

You see, Bill was stalking 'round, intoxicated quite,
On Love and Injun whiskey, and itchin' for a fight.
While Parson Sim he, too, had on a pretty decent load
And tackled Val to take her home in language a la mode .
But just as he was askin' her and she got up to go
Bill he came up to where they was a walkin' kind of slow.

And with a sort of stately bow he turned his back on Sim
And asked Val if she wouldn't take the homeward ride with him.
Well, 'twas over in a second, a few cuss words was said,
Sim he was grazed along the cheek and Bill's was through his head.
And there poor Bill lay bleedin', a-gaspin' hard for breath,
With Sim a-standin' over him, his face as white as death.

A look of horror crossed his face and sorrow filled his eyes
As Bill's brave spirit left the clay and started for the skies.
I reckon that he thought of how in all those happy years
They both had been like brothers and shared their joys and fears.
Then moanin'-like he took the gal and started for the door,
For she had fainted dead away when Bill dropped to the floor.

And with a yell some pulled their guns and made a sudden rush,
They tho't they held a winnin' hand, but Sim he had a flush.
Fer now his fightin' blood was up, and layin' Val aside
To get her out of danger, he let the bullets slide.
Old Buck he got his gal away, then he came back to fight,
But everything was over and he saw an awful sight.

The punchers they was lyin' round, a dozen men or more,
Looked like the field of Gettysburg, so many strewed the floor,
And Parson Sim was dyin' with his arms around poor Bill
His head a-lyin' on the breast that now was cold and still.
He'd won the fight, though wounded, then kneelin' by the spot
Where Bill was lyin' cold in death he fired the fatal shot
That let him follow after Bill, he died without a groan,
And with Bill restin' in his arms he sought the great unknown.
We laid them on a sunny hill, they're sleepin' side by side
Beneath the western prairie soil where once they used to ride.
And Val she never married, and sometimes comes to weep
And wet the flowers with her tears where both her lovers sleep.