The Night Is Much Too Pleasant Poem by John Yaws

I know just what you're seeing-
If you cast a glance my way.
A broken down old cowboy,
Who has seen his better days.

These wrinkles here are war maps.
You still can see the scars,
From long forgotten battles,
And brawls, in streets and bars.

My eyes have seen a hundred-
Like you get taken down.
Kings of your small mountains...
Who just had to paint the town.

It really doesn't matter, how smart,
Or quick, or tough...
You think you are tonight, chum-
It might not be enough.

There's always someone tougher
Or just a shade more fast.
That mistake you make in trying him,
May well just be your last.

So drink your beer, and get your hat-
No need to even try...
The night is much too pleasant..
For a man to have to die.