A TALE OF THE ROCKIES
by
Billy Bennett
(Almost a Gentleman)



Here is a tale of the Rockies,
And of Rockies I know quite a few;
There's the mint rock, the flint rock, rock-a-bye baby,
Almond rock, Rockfellow too.

There's the old rocking chair and the kid's rocking horse,
And rock cakes like carbonised coke.
There's a famous rock salt and the Rock of Gibralt,
And the rock that you're on when you're broke.

Jim was the tough guy of Texas,
Quick on the draw was Jim,
He'd pull out his gun but like blazes he'd run,
If the other guy was tougher than him.

Jim was born in the snow-capped Rockies,
Where the north winds blow down from the south,
With the cold he was blue, for the icicles grew,
Through his ears and came out of his mouth.

Jim's horse was a thoroughbed half-bred,
With a raspberry mark on his left hock,
And on his what-not a screen-wiper he'd got,
To stop the flies tickling his fetlock.

Jim had hair on his chest like samson,
In the winter, the birds on the wing,
Used to build a nice nest in the hairs on his chest,
And fly out again in the spring.

Jim once tracked his way in a snowstorm,
Many thanks to his own resources,
He found a clue there, not hoofs nor horsehair,
But the evidence proved they were horses.

Jim held up a bank, singlehanded,
Of the holdup they soon got the news,
He was shot in two places, when down came his braces,
He'd to hold up his how-do-you-does.

In a rough-house Jim once lost his pay-roll,
"Let's search the big blonde!" shouted he,
Search her clothes and her hat, she stood for all that,
But she jibbed at the third degree.

Jim raided the settlers' drug store,
And shouted, "Hand up, Hiram Perkins."
No bullets he'd got, so some pickles he shot,
And riddled a carcase of girkins.

A very rich rancher once boasted to Jim,
Of the cattle he owned on the plains.
He'd got bullocks and herds... in other words,
He'd got more of the former than brains.

For seven long months he'd been blazing the trail,
From Texas right up to Montana,
Then he slipped off the track and slid all the way back,
On the skin of a Turkish banana.

Jim was known the dames as 'Big Boy,
Of Molls, he had six of the best,
With six it was heaven... he could have had seven,
But on Sunday he needed a rest.

Jim's friendly with all the kid-nappers,
When they're short of kids he gets the wire,
With the family he's got, they know Jim is hot,
He'll supply all the kids they require.

One day Jim was chased by the sheriff,
His men rode like steeplechase jockeys.
That was the ending... when they caught him bending,
That's how Jim got shot in the Rockies!!!