Joe Grady and the Hangman

[Boston John Doucette]

Joe Grady and the Hangman

Big Joe Grady was a violent sort, a mean and nasty man:
A mountain on legs, with cannonball fists-- the terror of his clan.
Men would shrink beneath his gaze, women would turn and bolt;
And townsfolk prayed someday he'd fall before another's  Colt.

One Saturday night, as usual, he was drunk in the saloon,
When he spied the little man in black in a corner of the room.
Their eyes met above the rim of the stranger's bitter wine,
And Big Joe Grady felt the fear of death pass through his spine.

The little man looked up at Joe and said in low, hushed tone,
"Sit down, friend, and join me, please. I hate to drink alone."
His gentle voice and ice-blue eyes pulled Big Joe up short.
"If  you're paying, I'm drinking," was Big Joe Grady's retort.

The stranger poured Big Joe a glass from the bottle on the table.
"To death," he whispered, toasting Joe, "with honor, if you're able."
"What in thunder do ya mean by that?" roared Joe with a furious cry;
"Big Joe," the fellow said at last, "You're in a rush to die."

"I'm a hangman by profession:  I go where there's a need.
I'm the executioner for men of evil deeds.
Joe, you've terrorized this town time and time again,
And one day soon you're sure to be one of my hanged men."

A heavy silence followed while Big Joe thought it through.
"What makes you think," he finally asked, "that you will get me, too?"
"Outlaws are a thing of the past; your type's a dying breed.
One day you'll climb my thirteen steps for murder or for greed.

Eighty-three deserving men have dropped beneath my feet,
Each man thinking I was one that he could surely cheat.
I've said to over a hundred what I have said to you--
But the number who took advantage is sadly just a few."

His voice was a distant rasping, like dried leaves on the wind;
And Grady suddenly felt the weight of the life he'd spent in sin.
"How can you know any man's fate?" asked the shaken Joe.
The hangman stood and smiled  then said, "Joe, I think you know."

Soundlessly he made his way out into the night,
Merging with the darkness until he passed from sight.
Years went by and Joe would tell of the hangman and his mission...
And how he knows his soul was saved -- because he stopped to listen.


@copyright 2001 Boston John Doucette

[Wymore Wrangler]

Even the older ones are great, keep them coming...

[Forty Rod]

Man, I am so glad you're back.  You been missed.

Hey, U. Ben Mist is a great alias.

Great poem (again.)

[Jose Grande]

That's a good'un BJD.

[Marshal'ette Halloway]

WOW !!!

I really liked that.. 
Keep writing BJD..



Marshal'ette ( who loves to enjoy other people's talents)

[PWDFR POSSE]

Another fine job, BJD!