Prince of Pistoleers

If Wild Bill were alive today, I know he’d ride a Harley. Black leather vest, crisp white shirt, Looking just a little knarly.

He’d wear blue jeans and leather gloves, A gun belt on his hip. Quick with a smile, but quicker on the draw, If given any lip.

With the wind blowing through his long hair, He’d be knowing he was free. Living the life too often wished for, By folks like you and me.

Men like him still live today, Even after all these years. They ride steel horses, and they shoot straight, Like the Prince of Pistoleers.

Yes, you can still play poker in the Old #10, But don’t draw the Deadman’s Hand! Just play life’s’ cards as they’re dealt to you, As you ride across this land.

June 28, 2005

Beverly M. Hildebrand