She trekked across the desert against the unforgiving sun,
With nothing but a broken heart and her lovers silver gun,
She crossed the plains and barricades,
Stealing food and making trades,
Heading for the battle she knew could not be won.

She came across a gypsy and her strong but lazy child,
Her eyes where full of madness and her words were crazed and wild,
She pulled out the jack of hearts,
Said the beginning ends right where it starts,
So she got back on her horse and carried .on

The town was half full of idiots the other half were chiefs,
They showed no respect to her so she kept her visit brief,
She left that town with sixteen dead, a silver bullet in each head,
Vengance like a whirlwind in the corn.

The man that she was seeking was spoken of in myth,
Born death mute and crippled but shooting was his gift,
It’s was said that fifty men had been expired by his gun,
The lover of sweet Eloise made that number Fifty one.

She reached the stony mountains where it’s said he had his lair,
The blood of those who died before had stained her clothes and hair,
The pain that ached inside her heart was powerful and raw,
The killing that her eyes had seen made her judge jury and law.

He sensed her like a shadow as she crept through the morning mist,
He had eyesight like an eagle and a twitch came from his wrist,
The bullet flew into her head,
Thats fifty one men and one woman dead,
Sweet Eloise died right where she fell.
© LoneAlien