April is National Poetry Month
I can’t believe that I almost let April slip away without an offering to help celebrate National Poetry Month. The following poem of mine was first published in the poetry anthology How It Looks From Here, published by the Nebraska Writer’s Guild in 2019. It is the story of Rosie O’Grady, a soiled dove of the old west, and what happens when the town decides to clean up its act. Enjoy
The Ballad of Rosie O’Grady By Michael R. Ritt Rosie O'Grady Was a dance hall lady. She worked down at the Longbranch Saloon. And every night She would make quite a sight As she danced and she sang out a tune. With long hair flowing (And some ankle showing) The Cowboys would all give a holler. She'd peddle her wares Then she'd take them upstairs And it only cost them a dollar! Late one November As best I remember The night of the local election, A cowboy came in And got loaded on gin And demanded Rosie's affection. This cowboy was tough And got a little rough And was slapping poor Rosie around. She thought, "This ain't fun." So she grabbed for a gun And she fired and the cowboy went down. The sheriff in town Hadn't long been around, They’d just put him in office that day. He was far too new And didn't know what to do, So he went and locked Rosie away. Though things had got tense It was clear self-defense, No one thought she would stay long in jail. But the town saw its chance Now to end Rosie's dance, So Judge Parker refused to set bail. The day of the trial Rosie sat with a smile. The courtroom was standing room only. And most of the men Had, a time and again, Come to Rosie to feel less lonely. The jury came in And to Rosie's chagrin, She saw and it caused her to worry, The town had conspired To have Rosie retired. There wasn't a man on the jury! Now Rosie could see, It was plain as could be, That her fate had already been sealed. Without any hope She would hang from a rope, And the verdict could not be appealed. The following day They took Rosie away To the gallows the townsmen had built. And none of the guys Could look her in the eyes Because every man there felt his guilt. The hypocrites all Stood and watched Rosie fall As the trap door below her was sprung. And each in his way Will remember the day That poor Rosie O'Grady was hung. The Longbranch was closed When her sins were exposed And her doors were all boarded down tight. Some folks will confide They hear singing inside When they listen intently at night. No more do they roam, The men all now stay home With their wives all happy and cozy. For they learned their lesson And all stopped their messin' Because of the death of poor Rosie. It never does pay If you wander away To be with a woman who's shady. You'll live with regret If you ever forget The Ballad of Rosie O'Grady.