Six Gun Lewie they called him
Six foot forty with eyes a steely blue
Muscles as big as a Twenty Hand Ox
Hair as dark and thick, free to writhe and slither
As though the locks were snakes
Six Gun Lewie, friend of the friendless
Doer of Right
The man a man should choose to back him,
Be there plight or fight
Quick with a joke,
Might even be funny
Of one thing I warn you
And one thing alone
Don’t stare at the artwork
He has on his arm
Curses may befall you
As well as great harm
The Six Gun of legend
Of tales both false and true
Lives out its life there
Picked out, in Dark Relief, Green and Dark Blue
A warning to Bad Guys
And all of Ill Repute
That some are not victims
who hesitate to shoot
A guide a leader a Minion supreme
Faithful and honest and clean behind his ears
Steady and ready and strong he is too
Six Gun Lewie, my hat goes off
To You.
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