Birth of an Outlaw

From the very first time, I knew I was hooked—
Just draw, aim, and fire, that’s all that it took.
The scenarios are written, there’s little left to chance—
Just make the steel ring and do the cross-draw dance.

The first thing to do was to get some equipment;
Hats, boots, and bullets….Man, what a shipment!
Not to mention the clothing, the holsters, and cart;
My savings were hemorrhaging right from the start.

Of course, the big thing is picking your guns—
The only type of shopping that’s really much fun.
Two Vaqueros, a Winchester, and a double barrel twelve;
I was ready for my first shoot—I was gonna to give ’em hell.

The buzzer sounded—I grabbed my first gun;
Thought I was greased lighting….Boy, this is fun!
When the dust had all settled and the smoke had all cleared…
“What do you mean seven misses on targets that near?!!”

It must be the pistols; I’ll trade ’em for clones…
With a set of Peacemakers, I’d be bad to the bone.
So for my Vaqueros and some money to boot
I thought I was set for my very next shoot.

This time I was ready when that darn buzzer came;
I whipped out those pistols—I was gonna win this game.
I emptied my pistols and grabbed my Winchester—
What followed could only be called a disaster.

Those big rifle targets, Man, they looked tasty,
I shucked five live rounds ‘fore someone yelled, “Safety!”
A rifle with fewer safeties, now that’s the gun for me;
So, for my Winchester…and cash…I got a Rossi.

Oh, that next shoot, it was really going my way…
‘Til I heard the posse leader holler, “97’s load away!”
That darn double barrel couldn’t touch those old pumps;
Another trade…more cash…and the double barrel got the bump.

From the clones to Lightnings, and back to Vaqueros—
All I wanted to hear was “Misses?—ZERO!”
Winchesters, Marlins, Rossis and Lightnings;
The parade of guns was really quite frightening.

Procedurals, squib loads, dropped rounds, and dropped guns—
Time plus penalties…higher math’s not much fun.
Now, it’s been several years and the swapping I’ve quit…
’Cause I’ve learned I do better just shootin’ from the hip.

Tennessee Tombstone SASS #34723