Charlie Morse

To anyone who ever cared,
'Bout ol' Charlie Morse,
I leave 'em five rounds,
A rusty Smith and Wesson,
And my half-dead horse.
No hassle, no wranglin',
You can pick 'em all up
Right after my hangin'.
On here is writ the last will
Of ol' Charlie Morse,
Who lived only to rob and kill.
Young fellas, heed my call.
Never use that old gun
At First National for collateral.
I'm hopin' my life'll be a lesson.
You'll not get far; listen to Charlie Morse,
With a rusty Smith and Wesson
And a fool to boot for tryin'
To get away on a half-dead horse,
That's three steps away from dyin'.

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