WESTERN RHYMES: BILL BUNTZ COLLECTION

ALMOST HUNG

Now, this is the story of ol' Bill Buntz

Who escaped the gallows more'n once

As luck would have it, Bill had it in spades

Time and time again, death evades

Over 32 murders, he claimed he'd done

Before getting caught, he'd go on the run

Then, one day in seventy-two, his days were through

Until the sheriff was killed by a flying horseshoe

In Cheyenne, he shot a storekeeper dead

The next day, this is what the newspaper said:

"James May killed by gunman Bill Buntz"

"Now the sheriff and posse hunts"

Another avoidance of the gallows for Bill

Running off to the gold fields of the Black Hills

But there he shot a rival for a young girl's hand

And once again, had to flee from the land

Back in Texas looked to be a sure-fire mistake

Back where his troubles began in the Lone Star state

Ranger Coffee rode him down and cuffed him at a lope

But once more ol' Bill wiggled his way out of the rope

In New Mexico, a few years later, it looked like sheer doom

Bill was waiting in a cell as the sound of hammers loomed

But as he walked the thirteen steps, he tripped and fell over the rail

The sentence was postponed when the doctor said he was too frail

Unlike his victims, Bill had that sort of luck from out of nowhere

Over and over, time and again, he cheated hangmen everywhere

His killings were many, but his bragging was more

He last claimed to have killed at least forty-four

Then one day, as he was about to meet his maker

He got one last reprieve from the town's undertaker

They couldn't hang Bill 'cause the old coot died that day

No one to process and bury the body that would surely decay

A newspaperman found Bill and secured an interview

He asked about the amazing good fortunes that grew

Comparing Bill's good luck with that of the Greek god Zeus

Bill looked at the newsman and said with a wink: "No noose is good noose!"

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THE RETURN OF BILL BUNTZ

When last we saw ol' Bill

He was waiting in a cell

The headlines read

Bill Buntz ain't yet dead

The hangman ain't been paid

Seems ol' Bill was saved

Now the town was ready

With an undertaker steady

But Bill was on the run again

Last seen back in Cheyenne

Sleepin' in a horse stall

After a barroom brawl

Not much sleep on the run

Sometimes a little, sometimes none

Posse hot on his trail

Ol' Bill was ridin' the rails

Pinkerton's caught him nappin' once

It was a bad day, that day, for ol' Bill Buntz

But lady luck smiled once more

With a squeak from a loose board on the floor

With the nail, he slipped his cuffs

When it came to escapes, Bill had the stuff

Up came the board and down went Bill

Under the train while the guards were still

Around Elko, he got another break

A boarding house woman on the take

Helped keep the Pinkertons at bay

While ol' Bill Buntz skipped away

Runnin' fast, dog-tired and all-in

He was hidin' out in a house of sin

It was the Carson City sheriff's stash

In walked the sheriff bold and brash

He knew Bill on sight and drew fast

And a tired Bill said: "I'm caught at last"

"I just can't run no more, I've burnt out my fuse

To which the sheriff said: "No snooze is good snooze"

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MORE OF OL' BILL'S STUNTS

Ol' Bill Buntz was a lucky ol' cuss

An outlaw makin' an awful fuss

Posse chasin' their tails

Can't keep up with the rails

Cheating death by hook or crook

Ol' Bill's story is not a closed book

One more time we hear it told

How the outlaw grows old

A lucky star shown down bright

On ol' Bill most all his life

In the cell in Carson City

Bill got down to the nitty-gritty

Handsome Bill befriended the sheriff's wife

The food she brought saved Bill's life

A pin from her hair fell to the floor

And ol' Bill was locked up no more

Free and runnin' hard to flee the noose

He wore out the horse's shoes

The trackers were befuddled

When the tracks became muddled

Following tracks with iron depressions

Looks different than barefoot impressions

A posse fooled by circumstances

Gave Bill a few more chances

Traveling through the Indian Territory

A no man's land for the end of Bill's story

Bill traded his worn out, barefoot horse

For a sure-foot, Indian pony, of course

"But," he protested, "That's robbing Peter to pay Paul"

"One shoeless horse for another is no bargain at all"

To which the Redman replied, with a few clues

"With posse close behind, 'No shoes is good shoes"

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BILL BELOW

Now if you should think this story far-flung,

The story of ol' Bill who was almost hung,

And how he frequently cheated the noose,

Escaping his confinement by getting loose.

This will finally prove that all I say is true,

And this will be the end of Bill in his youth.

Newsmen will write, and the sheriffs will tell

Of the day ol' Bill Buntz went straight to...well

You know the place when you've run out of grace,

Where Saint Pete will point with a straight face.

Down below where, as luck would have it,

Ol' Bill Buntz was hoppin' like a rabbit.

"Coals hotter'n Yuma in July," is what Bill cried

As Satan showed him Hell's big book of lies

There was Bill's name, written down for every escape

When Bill begged the Lord to get him out of the scrape

A silent prayer that no one hears, never falls on deaf ears

Bill didn't know it, but he was trimmin' back his years

For every fabricated truth, Bill was losing his youth

It'll be a cold day in Hell before Bill ever gets long in the tooth

He'll boil and fry just as he is the day he came in

For all eternity, Lucifer will be his only friend

A "friend" indeed as the heat gets hotter

And ol' Bill Buntz becomes a Hades squatter

But true to his nature, ol' Bill was surveyin' all

Gettin' the lay of the land while dancin' at the devil's ball

Sooner or later, the chance would come

And ol' Bill would be ready to run

You could say he was a man on a mission

With only one thing in mind - to escape perdition

Wait and watch, watch and wait, eyes on the gate

And then one day, it came, but he was too late

Ol' Bill was not alone. Thousands did the same

On the devil's birthday he'd play the culling game

A few ghouls would be sent back to earth

But none of them would know just what it was worth

He'd let the bodies go but hung on to the soul

Back on earth they'd roam but never stroll

Just a shell, a transparent fog in human form

But they'd never know the cost of their new norm

The next time, Bill was early but so were thousands more

All waiting in line for the entrance to freedom's door

Again, he was shut out. Too many were in his way

Now, more fire and brimstone at the devil's soirée

Then one day he saw the trick, just how it all worked

When someone, above, fell through the trap door with a jerk

As the noose snapped tight around his neck and words were spoken

The massive iron gates of hell were rigged to open

As one new soul dropped in, a few slipped out

Once he had the master plan, Bill began to look at his account

How many times had he cheated the gates of Hell

How many souls were blocked when he escaped the death knell

"Now that you know," the devil said, "There'll be no more lines in your way"

"Just show up when it's time, and you'll not be forced to stay."

"It's the secret of eternity that none has ever gotten the clues"

"Until now, Bill, ol' boy." to which Bill replied: "No queues is good queues"

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THE TRUTH ABOUT OL' BILL BUNTZ

I guess we never did tell
How Ol' Bill landed in Hell
It wasn't no criminal escapade
That put him in the Devil's stockade

You probably assumed it was the noose
When they caught him out on the loose
When he finally just plain run out of luck
Well, that ain't the way Bill got stuck

It was just a freak accident
That caused his life to be spent
After all the times he cheated death
His life ended simply due to bad breath

Bill was actually trying to go right
Along with a partner named McKnight
They had a mining claim to work
When Bill met the reaper over a little quirk

The two were blasting out boulders
Neither knowing they'd never get older
Bill took the bundle of sticks to plant it
In just the right spot under the granite

When they got the dynamite In Laramie
Bill loaded up on Red Eye from the barkeep
Now, you should know about the whiskey
In those days, it was cut with kerosene

The fellers were sippin' and blastin' all day
Too excited about the dirt that would pay
They ran out of fuse chord and had to improvise
"I'll take care of it," said Bill, "No need to agonize"

So Bill took the cigar from his lips
And shoved it under the bundle, already lit
It was then that Bill began his downward spiral
Into the damnation of Hell's eternal fire

You see, the whiskey breath from the pair
Hit that lit cigar, causing the embers to flare
Before they could high-tail it out of there,
Pieces of Buntz and McKnight were everywhere

Now the Devil is wringing his hands with joy
Two for the price of one - it was a hell of a ploy
The Almighty looked down and said, "Looks like I lose"
To which Ol' Satan replied, "No fuse is good fuse"

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THE DEVIL'S RODEO GAMES

I'm sure you'll remember ol' Bill Buntz and his gallows stunts
And how he cheated the hangman more'n once
And you'll remember the devil sent him back once on a fluke
Now Bill's on Earth but not as himself. Now he's a spook

Well, Bill was a lucky ol' cus at cheatin' and gettin' away
But when Lucifer sent him back, he kept something for a rainy day
Oh, Bill would still have all those same skills he had before
But his luck would run out on everything else for sure

Now, you know ol' Bill tried to go straight once and that didn't work out
But he didn't want no part of the devil's store or anything near about
The first thing that excited Bill, once he got back on terra firma
Was the cowboy sport of rodeo which he thought would be good karma

So, Bill tried 'em all, the bronc ridin', steer wrestlin' and ridin' the bull
But it was the calf ropin' that got in his blood when his pockets were full
However, as he made one mistake after another, he lost every go 'round
The luck of his earlier life was left back there, with ol' Satan, underground

But Bill was not a quitter. He tried every rodeo from Calgary to Cheyenne
He came close one time in Prescott, but his calf was too near the end
And he ran out of time before the knot was tied around all three legs
Now he was running out of entry money and was drinkin' only the dregs

It was a miserable life but Bill never gave in. He knew he could win
If only the chin-whiskered, horned ol' goat would not crowd in
Bill kept on with borrowed funds but lost every competition
His piggin' string would suddenly come loose and the calf would run

Over and over at each rodeo Bill tied that calf down, and it'd get back up
Not one time did he ever win the prize money, the buckle or the trophy cup
No mater how hard or how many times he tried, his future was foretold
'Cause there just ain't no way a ghost can tie a knot that will hold

Bill thought he escaped the fire but the devil kept his soul
But Bill never quit. At each new rodeo, he kept lookin' for the loophole
One day, the devil's apparition appeared as a rodeo clown in Cheyenne
He looked at Bill and said: "If at first you don't succeed, Tie and Tie Again."

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BILL'S DECEPTION

Seems the luck that Ol' Bill once had
Was stolen from him when he left the devil's pad
Nothin' ever seemed to work out the way he planned
So Bill got him an idea to change his brand

If the boss of the underworld was confused
Maybe, Bill's luck could be re-infused
Maybe he could hide in plain sight
Right under the Devil's nose, day and night

So Bill worked out his deceptive plan
And took a job as a town lawman
But Satan caught on, tipped off by an informant
And once more Bill's famous luck went dormant

Not being a quitter, Bill tried to fool fate again
But, he soon found out, with the devil, you can't feign
Over and over Bill worked up a plan only to be shut down
When the fireboss would give him that evil eye and ugly frown

Finally, Bill came up with the ultimate deception
He'd dress up as the devil's own competition
He got horns and hooves and even his own pitchfork
And he tested his gimmick on the toughest town - New York

Well, it all worked out on that Eastern bunch
And Bill was elated with his "beat the devil" hunch
But once he took his act on the road back West
Lucifer was waiting for him with a fire and brimstone test

He said, "You look like a devil and you talk like a devil"
"But you just don't have the soul of a devil"
"You've got the tricks and the scams but there's no evil"
"So, I see who you really are, and I'll put your world in an upheaval"

Bill wasn't through yet, he reached into his bag of tricks
And pulled out a tall tale that was so believable, the devil was in a fix
But Satan was quick and matched him bit for bit
Until Ol' Bill just had to give it up and finally quit

Deflated ego and spirit and a washed up existence
Bill was left to wander around with no assistance
He went from town to town and no matter where he'd been
The devil was there saying: "If at first you don't Deceive, Lie and Lie again"

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BILL'S MAGIC

Lookin' for a way out of his devilish fix
Bill went to the famous house of magic tricks
And there he found a way to hide from a devil, mean
It was there, that Ol' Bill Buntz bought his time machine.

It was an 1895 Wells model with room for only one
And when Bill climbed aboard he knew the devil was done
He set that clock to travel back in time three hundred years
Surely the devil could not find him and would cry buckets of tears

So Bill ended up in jolly old England standing in the market dilly
There he met another man named Bill, but folks called him Willy
Willy was a writer but worked days selling his wares
Writing down lines he heard from passersby with no cares

He never made much of an income from either his verses or his wares
He couldn't sell the stories or the wares, especially his wooden chairs
Oh they were solid and sturdy, but the finish bubbled in the sun
And day after day, he'd never even sell a single one

He kept on making more chairs and benches and milking stools.
But the bubbling finish appeared in each one in large pools
Bill thought maybe the devil had found him and kept hidden away
It was the devil, he thought, who was causing this foul play

Now Willy and Bill worked on the problem in every way
Willy would write at night and sell his wares by day
But the time spent in the market was mostly a waste
Except for the occasional overheard statement of taste

That's when Willy would scribble down the line and tuck it away
Time after time, he'd try to sell something only to hear the word "nay"
Looking at all his defective merchandise, once new and now old,
Bill said to Willy, "All that Blisters Is Not Sold"

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BILL'S PROOF

"How sharp doth thy pencil be?" said Bill to Willy
"Would it be to draw the face of the Devil or the Lily?"
Pinched some of Willy's notes, hath I done as a sot
Then spilt mine beer and cried, "Out damn spot"

Bill tried hard to fit in with local customs in Anglo-Saxon land
Even trying to write a journal of his escapades in his own hand
All the while, hoping the Devil himself was behind in the future
Where he would neither a smoocher nor a moocher be

Now Willie had a habit of keeping a pencil with him at all times
Most oft between his teeth for quickly writing down lines
He also chewed them like toothpicks until the wood was soft
Chewed through to the sweetness of the lead. Oh what doft!

But England was not a good fit for Bill, he longed for home
Home where his comforts were. Where he wouldn't feel gloam
And his 1895 Wells didn't disappoint. He landed like it was yesterday
Back at home, he'd just have to find another way to keep the Devil at bay

But Bill couldn't keep still, he told too many about his adventure
And soon the Devil came by to remind him of Bill's indenture
He said, "Bill,ol' boy I'll just make you a deal of a lifetime"
"I'll trade you back your soul for that machine that travels in time"

"Oh what I could do with a machine like that"
"I could correct all the mistakes I've made in the past"
"I could put more people in Hell in one day"
"Than Heaven has places to stay"

But Bill was too familiar with "the Lucifer Lingo"
He knew that "trust" was not for the Devil, by jingo
He told Satan to give him a day to think it over
Then he vanished into the air - he had his hand on the lever

In another place, another time, Bill was back on stage
Tellin' tall tales with a man named Bob for a decent wage
Now, they seemed to be cowboy yarns, but Bill swore they were true
He told about his assistance with the "Taming of the Shrew"

Of course, his tales were unbelievable and highly suspect
Bill told about his travel in time and about Willy for affect
Of course, the crowd thought him "tetched" and absurd
But they paid big bucks to hear how far the truth could be blurred

Bill was gettin' richer by the hour as he told stories to the hoards
Stories, mostly of his playwright friend in the House of Lords
He told of Willy pinching a word here and a word there
And once he heard a word, he must use it, with due care

He told of hiding in the past from the horned man underneath
And he told of the Bard's habbit of keeping the pencil in his teeth
He tried to prove it all to Mr. Rippley with one of Willy's pencils
It somehow had come back to the future in Bill's pocket utensil

He showed the crowd how it was held and how it was chewed
He swore they were Willy's marks and how each mark had been accrued
He invited each one of the crowd to come on stage for a good look-see
But, the pencil was chewed so much, no one could tell if it was 2B or not 2B

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BILL BUNTZ DOWN SOUTH

The magic act on Rippley's stage has Bill concerned

The magician has a trap door that looks a tad burned

It's a familiar sight to a man who's spent time on a gallows floor

A sight to fright when one is on the dodge and just not sure

Bill begins to wonder just who is watching his act

Could the Devil disquise himself like Bill did, for a fact?

Would he be sitting in the front row cheering while sneering?

It was a frightful thought and one Bill would long be fearing

That's the cue thought Bill, take no more and flee the trap

The Wells took him to Atlanta just after that big European scrap

Bill found himself on another stage with fiddler's galore

More fiddles and bows than he could count for sure

His job was to keep the competition flowing

To use all his stage time and performance knowing

And as each fiddler came up to the front

Bill would whisper some encouragement

Then one of the local favorites got his turn

He got up with instrument in hand ready to burn

But Bill stopped him cold and gave him a warning

Told him to watch the man in front row - the one scorning.

"He's a trickster, and he'll put a hex on you" Bill told the lad

"Watch him close and don't make no deals or you'll end up bad."

He was just who Bill thought he was, even in his disguise

He had brought a golden fiddle and flashed it into the kid's eyes

Bill grabbed the kid quick and told the crowd, he needed more time

Backstage, Bill advised the kid what to say and to say it in rhyme

So the contest continued, and the Devil played the advocate

Confusing the kid and making him think he was playin' it straight

Each time the man in front would issue a challenge

Bill would wink and give the kid more courage

Then the golden fiddle appeared on stage with the Devil at the bow

He told the kid to keep up with him and not to be so slow

Now Hell's broke loose in Georgia as they fiddled up a storm

The crowd boo'd and hissed as the Devil took each turn

But this kid was no man's fool, and never showed his hand

He only showed the Devil that he could tread real quicksand

They fiddled against each other all that afternoon

With the best they had, one-upsmanship, tune after tune

They mesmerized the crowd with all their skill and pace

And Bill told the kid to keep it up, he'd put the Devil in his place

They played jigs and reels, highland tunes and hornpipes

They played "Soldier's Joy," "Cripple Creek" and "Paddy on the Turnpike"

It was neck and neck with neither taking the lead, according to Bill

That's when he whispered to the kid, "Play the Mountain Whipporwill"

Well, that flat out shut the Devil down and the crowd cheered

"Sure as I've come up from Hells rimrock," said the Devil stroking his beard

"You're a fiddler and then some, and I've plumb run out of repertoire"

"So if you'll just come with me, I'll make you my fiddlin' Czar"

The crowd was still cheering for their boy, Johnny, as the Devil whispered in his ear

But Bill was keepin' an eye out for him and jerked him away, saying, "Don't you dare"

It's a trap, I've been there and you won't get what he promises

He'll burn your fiddle up and you'll be just one of many hostages

Bill told him to just keep playing til one day, he'd be famous on his own

He was good enough to make it without help from the master of the crossroads

"Don't sell your soul, Johnny, for a fiddle made of gold,"

"You'll soon have gold in your pockets, I've been told."

"'Cause you're no ordinary hillbilly fiddler"

"You're sum much better than the fair-to-middlers"

"I'll manage your career and take not a cent"

"I'll turn you into a world-class fiddlin' gent."

"Go Johnny, Go!" yelled a single voice from the crowd

"You're solid as a rock, Johnny," he continued real loud

"Anytime around the clock, Johnny." Don't let your fiddlin' stop."

"Show 'em your chops, like you do at the Double-Stop Fiddle Shop"

So Bill took Johnny and the two went back in time to England once again

Where fiddlin' Johnny was introduced to Bill's British writing friend

The two became fast friends themselves and scribbled down competitive lines

Johnny put down, "Run Boy Run," and the Bard wrote, "The eye of heaven shines."

Well, 'fore you knew it, the pair had written the finest fancy fiddle song ever - just gorgeous

A tune hotter than Hades, could outshine the sun, 'bout Satan going down to Georgia

But Johnny liked England all to well. He decided he would stay and was never heard again

"As you like it then," said Bill as he took that song back to the future and sold it off to Charlie, a fiddlin' friend.

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BILL'S LAST ARREST

Time jumping has to take it's toll
And Bill Buntz fell into the black hole
He set the Wells machine to jump ahead
But landed in the year 1899 instead

Back in the West where he was a wanted man
Back in the West where the Devil knew his plan
Ol' Bill was perplexed but too worn down to grieve
He needed a rest so he hid in the hiding place for thieves

The Hole-In-The Wall, a little known place by most
But a perfect place to hide for Bill Buntz and his ghost
There he met some old friends and some new as well
But he kept secret the identity of his time machine by Wells

As he rested and rode with some of the old outlaw bunch
Bill took some bad advice from an old friend on a hunch
They gathered up a few of the others and headed off to Buffalo,
The county seat of Johnson County where the bank was mighty full

But things went wrong from the start. A smart sheriff was on watch
Bill and the entire gang were rounded up after that botch
At the trial Bill got the death sentence once again to bear
But this time, no gallows, electricity was the new thing that year

No pardons and no stays, the Governor knew Bill too well
The Devil wrung his hands just waiting for Bill in Hell
He wrangled a witness pass to watch the end of Ol' Bill
He needed it for a book he was writing called "A View To A Kill"

Visiting Bill in his cell, the warden told him, the process would be nice
Being there was the unknown, perhaps, "You'll only Live Twice"
Sitting in the chair, strapped and wired across his chest
Just before the switch was thrown, Bill had a cardiac arrest

He slumped down in the chair and as the executioner pulled the handle
Bill's life was gone but the shock jump-started the heart of this vandal
Tomorrow Never Dies, and it seems Bill doesn't either
The system just gave Ol' Bill Buntz another breather

Bill looked at the warden and said, "Today, there's just No Time To Die
So I'll be on my way, and I warn you not to stop me, don't even try
The warden looked at Bill and said "Well, we can't try you again anyway
So, if at first you don't die, Live and Die Another Day

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HOODOO BUCKAROO

He was ghastly thin and pale

His skin was brittle like shale

In places, you could see right through

The light shown where bullets once flew

He rode a black-as-night stallion

Around his neck, a silver Navajo medallion

Bad luck followed wherever he went -

If it didn't lead the way, and pay the rent

Needless to say, he was an unwelcome guest

Causing terror and fear and general unrest

But then one day, the world turned the other way

His horse turned white as snow, and he became the padre

A bolt of lightning turned the trick

He was no longer a raving lunatic

His previous power, now dour

Thanks to the timing of a summer shower

But he could never shake the handle

The hoodoo curse burst like a Roman candle

On and off without control

A padre with a different role

The congregation stopped coming to the church

There was no trust in the word or the works

He roamed around disguised as a buckaroo

Looking for any kind of work that he could do

On the Triple Six Ranch he found a home

And there he befriended a Swiss gnome

They rode side-by-side along the crick

The hoodoo buckaroo and his mythical sidekick

Years went by and word spread that his horse could fly

First he was seen in Tombstone, then reported in Buckeye

Telegraph messages had him in five places at once

Only a witch or a devil could pull off those stunts

Once, he was sittin' in the bunkhouse with the boys

And he started in tellin' 'bout the time of the big noise

He said the wind howled, and the sky cackled

The clouds boomed as all night they battled

It was the loudest eruption in all of tarnation

Nothin' like it was heard before or since in perdition

"It scared the bejesus out of me, boys," he said

"It give me the picture of meseff when I's dead"

Of course we didn't believe a word of anything he said

'Cause he always told tall tales of the times he was dead

All the times in the old days when he escaped the witchhunts

And of course, the time he tried to claim he was the famous Bill Buntz

"So that's the reason for them tales of me bein' here and there

If that 'ol devil cain't ever find me, well, I don't care"

"But wait, what ever happened with the big noise?" we asked

"Oh, that," he said, "well, that was just me - passin' gas"

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A COWBOY YARN THAT OUT-SPINS 'EM ALL

Well, I 'spect you've heard a tall tale or two by now,

About that big Bunyan feller with his baby cow.

Or mebe the one about the two waddies up in the pines,

Who roped the Devil and branded him with their signs.

But I'm here to champion all tall-tale-tellers ever-where.

They'll never beat this one, no how, not even on a dare.

So sit back and rest yer bones and put on yer believin' cap.

I guarantee there ain't nobody here who's gonna take a nap.

Now this happened quite a spell ago when the wagons came West.

One of 'em hit a bump, bounced the baby out the back like a pest.

There he sat for three days and nights like it was a playpen.

A mama coyote came by, claimed him, and carried him off to her den.

For seventeen years, he howled at the moon and on all fours, he ran,

Until a cowboy came by and said: "You're not a coyote, you're a man."

"Well that just cain't be," said the kid. "I got fleas."

"Lots of cowboys got fleas. Hop on back, I'll make you see."

"Before we go, don't ya think you otter give that old coyote sumpin."

"Fer takin' care of you and keepin' you from bein' just another bumpkin."

"Give her all ya got, she'll need it more'n you, you owe her, it's yer bill."

Two jackrabbits and four gophers later and he was forever known as Bill.

And that's how I became...I mean, how Bill became a cowboy.

On the very first day, his horse laid down like a broken old toy.

Bill looked around, saw a mountain lion sunin' herself on a stump.

He threw a rope on her, jumped on and the two took off with a jump.

Well, he rode that lion right into town and caused one hell of a stir.

The saloon emptied out, and the whole town chattered up a chirr.

Now, mind you, he was ridin' a wild mountain cat like he was no amateur.

But what riled up the town was that he did it without even a single spur.

Bill knew he needed a rope and lookin' 'round he saw a rattlesnake,

All coiled up, big as a man's thigh and laying in the sun to bake.

He grabbed that rattler by the tail and cracked it like a whip.

It hissed when he swung it like a lasso and the cattle moved quick.

Word got 'round that Bill was lookin' for a horse worthy of his skill.

Everyone in Texas pointed west and said there's a mustang, if you will.

Wild as lightning and twice as fast. Nobody's ever been a taker.

So Bill found the bangtail outlaw that everyone called the widow maker.

When that cayuse saw Bill, he reared up and grabbed a sky pillow.

Bill just smiled, climbed aboard and drug his heels like riddin' an armadillo.

Well that widow maker bucked so hard, Bills hat blew off and went so high,

All the town's folk said it was three days before they saw it's hide.

Bill rode that mustang as he bucked over mountains and across rivers.

And when he finally stopped to catch his breath he shook and shivered,

Then turned back to nod to Bill which is horse-talk for "yer the one".

And now that I've said this much, I'll bet you think this tale is spun.

No sir, no ma'am, we've just begun and this is where the story gets goin'.

One summer noon as Bill was shadin' under a Mesquite here come a cyclone.

The biggest, blackest cyclone anyone had ever seen, coming right at him.

Well now, ol' Bill, played that cyclone like a church organist plays a hymn.

He took out his rattlesnake lasso and roped it 'round it's middle.

Then I,..I mean he...strung it up, plucked his rope and played it like a fiddle.

Now the cyclone didn't like that one bit and he began to buck.

And Bill said, "I think I'll ride you til you stop, just for luck.

Well, that cyclone bucked so hard it scraped the tops off the mountains.

Then it dug canyons deep into the ground and made rain like fountains.

It finally came to a halt in the desert and expelled out it's last flatus.

Bill let it die it's death right there, nevermore to enter into the stratus.

The Hualapai tribe down at the end of the Grand Canyon swear its true.

And now you know that it was never dug by no baby ox named Blue.

It's the legend of nearly 300 miles of river and cliffs that few knew.

Now this would be the end of my story if it weren't for a gal named Sue.

But that part is so unbelievable it's hardly worth tellin' so I'll wait,

For another time and place when you're more ready to carry the weight.

Since this story happened many hundreds of years ago,

I still tell it every year on my birthday, give 'er take a month or so,

'Cause this here story is the absolute truth and that's for real.

I know, 'cause it was me who was that little baby boy named Bill.

But for now let me do the concludin' for this portion of the tale,

And tell you jest how I know it to be true - 'cause I read it all in the email.

.......

Now jest hold on there, 'fore you go and let me make sure I get the credit

When it comes to spinnin' the best darn yarn, remember I'm the one who said it

I think you should remember that I might have told a tall tale before - at least once

So when you tell other folks all about me, jest remember I'm Bill Buntz

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