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.