The Tale of John Savage
He was young and rode out west
His brother, east, thinking that was best
Their widowed ma, newly married,
Felt it best if they not tarry.
Fourteen and free of will,
Young John fell in with raiders of Quantrill,
Burning farms and riding fast,
He knew outlawing could not last.
In Bonham, Texas he made his escape-
Took to rustling, got in all manner of scrapes-
Hiding out with fellows, we all know their names-
The Younger boys and brothers James.
Taking his stake and settling a claim,
In Palestine, Texas he choose to remain,
Ranching beeves and raising daughters and sons,
Standing tall in his boots and in his white Stetson.
A community pillar, a newspaper man, his obit read
No mention of past brash deeds better off not said
His portrait as an older gent is hung and held very dear
Glad he wasn’t hanged when young or I would not be here!
*** This is a little story about my great grandfather for the dVerse prompt today.