Let me tell a story that was told one time to me
By people who had had it told to them
By their fore-fathers, and their four mothers
It was a little eight person
Travelling troupe of story-telling parents
But that's not the focus of the tale. (Sorry)
What's important is the story of a stranger
Who came riding on his horse on a dusty trail
He's embellishing by saying that it was a dusty trail
But I think it's pretty safe to assume
That the road-building methods of the time
Would have been quite crude... to say the least
Actually, strictly speaking,
To say the least would have been to do this (pauses) Yeah
But you get the idea
No one knew where he came from
No one knew who he was
But presumably his parents and a few childhood chums knew him
Roh! Roh!
Hee!
Roh! Roh!
YAAH... I won't fucking do it!
No more!
It's just a little act of mine!
He rode a horse, a great black steed
And Spirit was his name
The horse's name, not the bloke
The finest gambler in the county
He broke all the ladies' hearts
I'm still talking about the horse
The man rode round performing acts that may have broke the law
Or angered someone in some other way
So subsequently he was inevitably caught up with
By some state- or county-appointed figure of authority
Or local strong man.
Roooooar!
Or fuckhead
Unnecessary
One fateful day... Or night
Brought before a judge or jury
He may have been put to death
Or he may have escaped
In some exciting way... Or boring way
Like a legal loophole
There he goes!
Riding into the sun
He dissolves into a vapour as he nears the burning orb.
Or maybe it's just a metaphor
Yes, definitely a metaphor!