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DEATH RIDES A PALE HORSE.
DEATH RIDES A PALE HORSE. If you would like to listen to the song while you read, here is a link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEcy8nDa3DI That Sunday began like any Sabbath day all the good folks in town a kneeling to pray. Preacher pledging the fires of Hell to the damned blessing those who’d been washed in the blood of the lamb. When Willy McAllister burst through the door yelled the Bank had been robbed by a band of outlaws. The sheriff had not even gone for his gun when the three outlaws drew and they fired as one. The town cowered in fear by the mid afternoon the three'd taken over the Red Dog saloon. Laughing an bragging and shooting their guns yelling down the street that they'd kill everyone. They beat the bar tender then shoved him outside filled him with lead as he plead for his life. The preacher ran out and he begged them to go but the three cut him down as he prayed for their souls. Then a grim looking stranger rode into town Dressed in black on a pale horse, just at sundown. A messenger of death hung low on his side in the form of a pearl handled Colt forty five. He told of the bad things his cousin had done that one was his brother the other his son. He'd trailed the three outlaws for twenty one days he wouldn’t stay long he'd soon be on his way. He reined in his horse by the Red Dog saloon the three came to the door as the stranger stepped down. They stood for a moment then grabbed for their guns three shots rang out that all sounded as one. The smoke cleared away as a crowd gathered round the three outlaws before them lay dead on the ground. The grim looking stranger put his gun away turned to the crowd and he bid them good day. Then up on the pale horse still all dressed in black he rode out of town and he didn't look back. It happened this way just at sundown the Sunday that death rode a pale horse to town.
This Poem was Critiqued By: charles r pitts On Date: 2015-10-23 02:03:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
I've always been a fan of songwriting and rhyming poetry. And I still love to watch those old gunslinger westerns I've seen a dozen times. This has a little bit of all three. This piece paints a vivid scene that I could totally see on the big screen. There are a few places where the rhythm and rhyme scheme are a bit off: how about "the good folks in church were a'kneelin to pray"?--but of course i haven't heard the song that accompanies this) i would also suggest that Willy burst through "the daws" to rhyme better with outlaws, and "the town cowered in fear AND by mid-afternoon" --but again, with the musical accompaniment, it may fit perfectly. I think if you write this so that the rhyme and rhythm work just the same whether spoken or sung, you might just have a classic on your hands.
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