The Revenge of Jane

Ok, this is the poem that I entered into the Western Poetry contest today. I realized that the deadline was tomorrow, so after I closed shop, I sat down and typed this up very rapidly and ran over to the library to enter it. I totally scrapped the other one...

So here's the new one. :) Enjoy! (Note: This is a 30 min flat poem, no editing included. Don't pick on me.... lol.)
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The Revenge of Jane

There was a young gal named Jane,
Who was never in her life called plain.
She wore ribbons in her hair
While she fed her chickens there
On her sweet little home on the range.

Every man and gent in the land
Had come and asked for her hand.
But she shook her head no,
One by one, let them go,
Said she’d wait for just the right man.

One day that man came up to her door,
Nate knocked once, then kneeled on the floor.
He took off his hat,
While he proposed, that was that.
Her heart wasn’t lonely anymore.

Nate owned a large oilfield;
While he worked, she made all of his meals.
Jane was happier than ever,
This man made everything better,
Those blue eyes sent her heart to reel.

But there were some in those western parts
Who didn’t have such joy in their hearts.
They hated that man,
Wanted him dead in the sand,
And would do anything to tear him apart.

One morning Nate turned to his wife,
And whispered “I will love you all of my life.”
Jane hugged him long,
And with that he was gone,
It was the last time she’d see his blue eyes.

When the news came of his death she turned white.
It was by far the worst day of her life.
Six days she mourned in her room,
But on the seventh she knew what to do.
That night she left with her gun and her knife.

The six men who murdered her sweet Nate,
Knew that she was full of black hate.
They saddled their steeds,
Put their backs to the breeze,
Tucked their tails and ran swiftly away.

For seven years Jane hunted them down.
She raided and pillaged every town.
Her hair had no gold,
And some lines really showed,
But she didn’t stop till they’re underground.

It was the date of her husband’s death,
When Jane stopped to take a small rest.
When she stopped in the saloon,
She heard a voice that she knew,
She kept her hand from flying to her chest.

Jane slowly turned ‘round on the spot,
Looked at the men who fired that shot.
She knew just who they were,
But they paid no attention to her,
They had no idea they had just been caught.

She smiled and yelled out a cheer,
They whipped around and knocked over their beer.
Six shots rang out,
As they died, she sat down,
And said “Bring me a whiskey over here.”

That night she received the best sleep;
For the first time her heart was at peace.
She was off in the dawn,
No one knew she had gone,
And never more would anyone see her weep.

The End