WreckOfTheWin97

The Wreck of the Win ‘97

As he walked in the sun his spurs gleamed and jingled

He strode up to stage number ten

He paid no attention to the boys. Never mingled.

He was focused. Determined to win!

His six-gins were smooth as a new baby's bottom

His leather was custom and slick

Any new gee-gaws? Well, he made sure he got em

That boy never missed him a trick

His lever gun levered like hot melted butter

Transitions were flawless and clean

If you listened you'd hear the whole posse mutter

"He's the fastest one we ever seen!"

The buzzer went off and our boy went to work

He shot like a demon for sure

Smooth as a silk scarf, never a jerk

His technique was just flawless and pure

When he needed a reload shells leaped to his hand

It seemed that he might be bewitched

Sparks fairly flew from his boots as he ran

From handgun to rifle he switched

The shots boomed like thunder out on the prairie

The RO could barely hang on

He moved like greased lightning, never a tary

As the steel targets rang on and on

Then all that remained were the knockdowns at last

They were small and unthreatening things

We knew that he’d take em down all with a blast

For he moved as if he had wings

One shell in the Winnie, in the hand one more round

As our hero took up his stance

The 12 gauge roared fire and the steel hit the ground

We knew that it had not a chance

The forearm slammed back to eject the fired shell

It almost ejected just right

But it stuck in the port as things went to Hell

And the bright daytime turned into night

Quick as a snake he cleared the jam fast

And then he was back in the fray

Slammed the next round in, ready to blast

But he stuffed in the wrong way!

He popped it back out as he made his last stand

And grabbed a fresh shell with a grin

Maybe slightly too hard…..for it flew from his hand

And left a big welt on his chin

The next shell got chambered as the clock ticked away

It went bang and the kd went down

Two more were left. Would our boy win the day?

A few of us started to frown

The next one refused to come out of the pump

I guess that it liked it in there

The posse was silent, our morale in the dump

As our boy was now gasping for air

And now at the end only one knockdown stood

Unimpressive, defiant, and small

A quick blast rang out and we craned for a look

But the danged wretched thing wouldn't fall

With a growl like a sob our boy loaded again

And at last reluctant steel fell

We had witnessed the fall of a great one, my friend

On Stage Number Ten, straight to Hell

In the end he was beat by a gray-haired galoot

With a limp and an old side-by-side

I guess some days you win, some days you lose

And some days you swallow your pride

Now he wouldn't let the big loss just fester

He practices hard every day

He wins lots of matches, but without that Winchester

I hear tell he threw it away!