The Escape of Billy the Kid
In an upper room they have me shackled.
Handcuffed, abused and under guard.
Pat Garrett’s off collecting taxes
This might be my chance, dear Lord.
Bob Olinger would love to kill me
He’s waved his shotgun in my face.
James Bell, the other guard, is softer,
He’s here to keep Bob in his place.
At noon I had the chance I wanted.
Olinger lunched across the street.
Bell was left alone to guard me-
a handcuffed man with shackled feet.
I told Bell I felt nature calling.
He took me on a Privy run
He was quick but I was quicker
We struggled and I got his gun
I pistol whipped my former guard.
I took his keys and freed my hands.
I didn’t want to kill him but,
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poem by John F. McCullagh
Added by Poetry Lover
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