The Gunslinger (above the pass)

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Above the pass, he lies in wait,
His craggy face carved out of scorn.
Intolerant of “second-rate,”
His gun now from its hoster torn.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The little band rides into view,
Scanning hard the barren trail,
Lined with boulders that accrue
Among the dust and settled shale.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 No cover from the rifle fire,
No place to ‘scape the cross-site threads.
The mocking sun spreads waves of fire
Upon the trav’ling party’s heads.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Above the pass, he cocks his gun,
The click resounding like a shot.
The shadows deepen in the sun,
His lips now strangely dry and hot.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The fair-haired sheriff casts his eyes
To where he fears attack may come.
No chance for talk or compromise,
The seconds ticking like a drum.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 The shot rings out! The sheriff falls!
The band of cowboys spur their steeds
And gallop past the valley’d walls,
No thought now of heroic deeds.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The prostate body on the track
Is covered by no mourning shroud.
Above the pass, his head thrown back,
The Dunphy’s laughter echoes loud.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 He draws a blade of weathered steel,
Surveying long the dark deed done,
And carves another inch-long weal
Upon the barrel of the gun.



Eamonn Dunphy uproots another manager. Someday someone will write a book about this objectionable little man, whose views on football often cause great hilarity, became the judge, jury and executioner of national team managers.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/the-gunslinger-above-the-pass/