(Sing to the tune of “Oh, Susanna”)
Oh, I rode from Alabama to a hot and dusty land
where I met my Horseshoe Hannah with a six-gun in her hand.
And she said, “This is a holdup!” Oh, her voice was so divine
that I shouted, “Horseshoe Hannah, oh my darlin’, please be mine!”
Horseshoe Hannah, oh, won’t you be my bride?
You can wear your white bandana with your six-gun at your side.
Well, she looked a little puzzled, and she said, “Don’t be absurd!
I’m the roughest, toughest outlaw that you’ve ever seen or heard.”
Then she said, “Now put your hands up, and you keep them high above.”
And I wept because my Hannah couldn’t see we were in love.
When she reached into my saddlebags, I kissed her on the cheek.
But she tied me up—I reckon she was too in love to speak.
And I thought about it sadly as I watched my darlin’ part.
No, it wasn’t just my money—Horseshoe Hannah stole
Text © Eric Ode, reprinted from Tall Tales of the Wild West (And a Few Short Ones), published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Ben Crane. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.
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