Robert Ford & Jesse James

Robert Ford and Jesse James were like brothers

together they robbed the Glendale train
wasting time and sipping moonshine whiskey
like Cain and Abel in the night

Robert Ford earned his cash in dime-store photos
as the man who killed poor Jesse James
late at night he’d hear the Glendale roaring
like a shivering ghost alone his back

On the stage Bob read his lines like a hero
to whispers of “Brutus” in the back
packed up shop and moved to Colorado
felt the free snow drift across his face

And it was young Bob Ford who killed the outlaw Jesse James
while he hung his portrait in the Missouri sun
and in the blood that spilled Bob saw a young man’s face
wondered if his gun was the kiss of Jude

Bob lay dead in a pool of blood and whiskey
face down in a street of swirling mud
bullet holes that pocked his deerskin jacket
O’Kelley’s sawed-off on the floor

They buried Bob in a plot outside Creede City
just a priest and graveman to see him go
late at night he’d hear the Glendale roaring
like a shivering ghost along his back

And it was young Bob Ford who killed the outlaw Jesse James
while he hung his portrait in the Missouri sun
and in the blood that spilled Bob saw a young man’s face
wondered if his gun was the kiss of Jude

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