pulled my pipe-case out,
And the stranger reckoned I had a gun, and he
wrassled good and stout.
But I got him down on his back at last and
straddled acrost his chest,
And allowed to him that he’d better plan to
go to his last long rest.
He gasped and groaned he was poor and old
and hadn’t a blessed cent,
And almost blubbering asked to know what