By Jason Zapata

Men dread the sight of his approach,
This force of nature riding into town.
Throats grow dry and children go silent
In the presence of this high plains predator.

He smiles mockingly as he dismounts,
Watches the townsfolk clear the streets.
His spurs chime ominously on arid ground,
A death knell for whom he’s come to claim.

He is the epitome of lawless frontier villainy.
An eager inciter and ruthless gun fighter.
Being so inclined to shoot a man from behind,
If he tries to run from his unwavering gun.

He is the man in the black hat.

Waiting fearlessly at the end of the street
Stood the troubled town’s stalwart sheriff.
Many a showdown this tin man had won,
Filling his share of pinewood boxes.

This worthy adversary strode towards him,
A hero used to putting his life on the line.
This sheriff looked like a gambling man
But he would be dealt a dead man’s hand.

With an undertaker’s smirk he did the devil’s work,
Demoralizing the town by gunning its sheriff down.
Only fools dare contest this man’s rule of the west,
A gunslinger fulfilled by the heroes he’s killed.

He is the man in the black hat.