Wilson, Wickford and Dunne <br />Were gunslingers and lawmen <br />With a remarkable thing in common: <br />They all had half-brothers they needed to kill. <br /> <br />They rode the Jornada del Muerto <br />In New Mexico, shooting rattlers <br />And drinking bad coffee, <br />And smoking black Mexican cigars, <br />And looking up at the shooting stars. <br /> <br />Hugh Wilson found Jeb in Santa Fe, <br />And shot him in the back of the head. <br />Nick Wickford crossed paths with Samuel <br />At some godforsaken trading post, <br />And blew out his heart. <br />Ryan Dunne caught Slocum Bickford watering his horse, <br />And shot him from a distance (of sorts) . <br /> <br />Now the three were wanted dead or alive, <br />And it seemed for a time that they thrived. <br />But squabbles perked up their rides, <br />One would complain to the other, <br />And all three would hide. <br />Then in El Paso it came to a head: <br />In a fury of dust they shot each other dead. <br /> <br />In an inquiry into the gang, <br />A newspaper man gathered evidence <br />As to why the gang went on the spree. <br />Each, he discovered, had had his ego punctured <br />By their dastardly half-brothers, <br />For simply having the same harlot of a mother.<br /><br />Stan Petrovich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/family-feuds/
