Classic Poem

We jest went out to git him, and we did—
We trailed him from the sagebrush to the pine;
We seen the long-dead ashes where he'd hid
And where he'd cooked his bit of bacon rine.

We found the hoss, where it had fell and died,
But he'd gone on—a tough nut, yes, that's true—
We seen the blood where he had stopped and tied
His coat-sleeve round his worn and busted shoe.

We heard his lead, a-singin' past our ears,
Where he stood pat, 'way up a lonely draw;
We smelt his powder, yet it brung no fears,
'Cause wasn't we the Majesty of Law?

We seen his face, his black eyes blazin' hate,
We heard him fall, and in plain view he slid;
The world's some better off, I calkilate—
We jest went out to git him, and we did.