A Pretentious Gunslinger Of Plenty Poem by Mark Heathcote

She wants a man with a Gatling gun
And troubles that always come with woes
She'll blow no smoke down your nose
She'll ride your spurs in all the best rodeos

A pretentious gunslinger of plenty
And only twenty

She wants some man who cans fistfight
Battle his way out of any tin can ally
She wants a man who isn't any stranger
To danger who will happily smite
A foreigner or a lovesick neighbour

She's a pretentious gunslinger of plenty
And only twenty

She sits on her porch like a bee in a flower
Sending every man mad
Gazing and smiling in her solitude
With her hair in ribbons and braids
Drinking Ice tea waving a cotton flannel

She's a pretentious gunslinger of plenty
And only twenty

If she weren't so pretentious she might marry me
She might even attract some company
Maybe from a door to door Bible salesman
Looking to do all he can
for the lost sheep of New Jersey and Kentucky
but she's too pretentious for just about anyone.