The Town Marshal
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he Prohibitionists made me Town MarshalWhen the saloons were voted out,Because when I was a drinking man,Before I joined the church, I killed a SwedeAt the saw-mill near Maple Grove.And they wanted a terrible man,Grim, righteous, strong, courageous,And a hater of saloons and drinkers,To keep law and order in the village.And they presented me with a loaded caneWith which I struck Jack McGuireBefore he drew the gun with which he killed me.The Prohibitionists spent their money in vainTo hang him, for in a dreamI appeared to one of the twelve jurymenAnd told him the whole secret story.Fourteen years were enough for killing me.
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