The Memory Of Glenore Poem by David Welch

When the Anders Gang came to Pitkin's place,
bent on murder, theft, and rape,
amongst them rode a wanted man,
known to the world as Chicago Sam.

He rode behind, guarding the rear
while the other dozen visited fear
upon a family, old and young,
doing everything under the sun.

For two hours until the neighbors came,
a horror on those folks was rained.
Until finally Anders heard the hooves
of angry men racing to where they stood.

Anders gave a call, they mounted all,
and road away away towards mountains tall.
Though Sam hesitated and looked down
to a teenage girl laying on the ground.

Still alive somehow, though barely so,
her tattered clothes heaped in nearby shadow.
Her face was swollen, but Sam, he swore
that he looked into the face of sweet Glenore.

He shook his head and galloped away,
what he imagined there could never be.
Glenore was dead, and twice the age
of the girl that he left there in pain.

But in the days to come, it nagged at him,
his last true memory free of sin.
The sight of his lost love lingered long,
and the memory of her voice, lifted in song...

It wasn't his fault, what she did choose,
to take her own life, the choice of a fool!
She should've seen then what he was,
a gambling man who lived life rough!

The mistakes had been hers to make,
to think his sins could be loved away.
If she'd only gotten that through her head,
she'd still be here, she'd be not dead.

He told himself this, o'er and o'er,
but kept seeing her image more.
He saw the sadness mar her sweet face
when with another he had laid.

He saw her body, so small and cold,
and reheard the words the marshal told,
the psalms of reverends at the end,
with all this weight did Sam contend.

One night while he stood on watch,
he looked back on the sleeping flock
of murderers, thieves, and rustler scum,
and though back upon all he'd done.

The next day's sun a posse brought.
by noon all the Anders Gang was shot,
except for one, no longer there,
the path to their place, Sam had lain bare.

In exchange for this they let him go,
and give him one thousand in gold.
But he did not rush to spend the haul,
in fact he spent nothingat all.

Instead he rode to Bud Fielding's,
where the poor girl was recovering.
Fielding walked out, with his rifle drawn
"Ride on filth! "the good man did warn.

But Sam he just held up his hands,
saying, "I come here to kill no man.
I came here to, in some small way,
make up for what happened that day."

The girl limped out, her eyes afire,
Chicago Samfelt old, and tired.
He took his gold-pouch off his belt,
and at the feet of the girl it fell.

He said, "You remind me of a girl when
I was something of a better man.
That money won't fix a shattered heart,
but at least you can make a new start.

"I do not expect you to forgive,
the things me and my comrades did.
But I'm here today to even the score,
for you and for my lost Glenore."

The girl looked on through swollen eyes,
his purpose she did not realize.
He sighed and said to her, "I'm sorry
that I ever caused pain or worry."

Those were the last words that he said,
then he placed his pistol by his head.
only way to make good, he figured,
so he took a breath, squeezed the trigger.