The Legend of Black Bart

It all started back on July 26, 1875,
When the Sonora stagecoach did arrive
At a narrow, lonely and rocky place,
Where stood a bandit with a flour sack over his face.

He pointed his double-barreled shotgun
At the driver and halted their run.
Covered by a linen duster so as not to be seen.
He acted firmly, but was never, ever mean.

That day the stage line lost their money box
To a gentleman who was as sly as the fox.
And Wells Fargo agents were oh so forlorn.
This day the legend of Black Bart was born.

On Aug. 3, 1877 he made his fourth robbery,
Leaving Detective Hume this bit of poetry:
"Here I lay me down to sleep
To await the coming morrow.
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat
And everlasting sorrow.
Let come what may, I'll try it on,
My condition can't be worse.
And if there's money in that box,
'Tis munny in my purse. --Black Bart"

His 23rd robbery was on Sept. 17, 1882,
As the stage to Yreka, Calif. came through.
Dressed all in white, he caused them to fume,
As he said, "Give my respects to Det. Hume."

Bart's 26th robbery attempt went far awry,
As a boy with a .22 happened to be nearby.
The boy fired at him and scared him away.
They found his handkerchief, laundry marked FXO-7, that day.

Det. James Hume set out for San Francisco
And to the laundry businesses he did go.
It was on Bush Street he cracked the case,
For they knew the mark and the owner's face.

They arrested Charles E. Boles, a gentle man
Who, afraid of horses, made his escapes by walking over land.
They got his gun but of shells were not any,
In all his holdups, his gun was always empty.

Lawmen got their man and something else, too.
The story spread of what an empty gun can do.
In 26 holdups over 7 years he never hurt a soul.
Yet he made off with $50,000 in cash and gold.

Before you embark on the rocky bandit trail,
Remember Black Bart spent five years in jail.
'Tis wise to realize the honest way is best.
Outlaws paid their dues, even in the Old West.