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LEGEND OF FRANK MAGEE

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I hear tell they hung him in Yuma
from a gnarly, old cypress tree,
a man who robbed banks an’ murdered,
the outlaw, Frank Magee
 
They say he rode with the Daltons
then skidaddled when things got too hot,
robbin’ an’ killin’ in Kansas,
that’s where his chums met their lot
 
He headed south to old Tombstone
where a man could lie low a spell,
not figurin’ on meetin’ the Earp boys
who were tryin’ to send him to Hell
 
He took him a woman named Josie
an’ they lit outta town on the run,
a posse was soon on their trail though
an’ he shot three or four just for fun
 
The two of ‘em hid in the mountains
but snow soon made ‘em come down,
bedraggled, beaten, an’ hungry,
they rode to an’ old desert town
 
The sheriff had seen all the posters
of killer’s from nigh A to Z,
an’ he knew on that day, he would put him away,
the outlaw, Frank Magee
 
A terrible gunfight commenced then,
an’ his Josie died there in the street,
her last words to Frank as he knelt down
were, “Run for your life, my dear sweet!”
 
He rode outta town on his sorrel
with the sheriff an’ men chasin’ fast,
as shots rang out ‘cross the desert,
Frank knew he’d met his fate at last
 
Everyone at his trial called him guilty,
they cried, “With his friends he should be!
He ain’t got no shame, he’s got no one to blame,
an’ deserves to be hung from a tree!”
 
Young Frank was proud an’ half cocky
as he heard the verdict they read
an’ said, “I lived my life freely,
an’ don’t mind if now I am dead,
 
But mark these words that I tell ya,
I’ll haunt this land when I’m gone,
my life story will live on forever
in history an’ cowpuncher songs.”
 
I tremble to think of them last words
‘cause I’m sure young Frank got it right,
this country’s been cursed by the killer,
an’ folks claim his ghost rides at night
 
His legend is told ‘round the campfire
when wind howls across the prairie,
an’ it still gives a man the cold shivers,
them grim tales of Frank Magee…
 

Poetry by Tamara Hillman

Copyright 2005

USED WITH PERMISSION

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