Billy Bob Pete sat on the bar

shining up his silver star

and drinking down the whiskey, bitter

while dodging bullets, hither and dither

"Sheriff Pete?" the bartender said

as a bullet whizzed by his head

"Shouldn't you be doin' sumthin' 'bout now

'fore they shoot my saloon down"

The Sheriff nodded, "s'pose I shud

'fore we bury Three gun in a box of wood."

He jumped down from the bar, atop

"Ok people, time for this to stop."

The bullets kept a flying by

Ruechari caught one in the thigh

The Sheriff he just shook his head

And shot one of the varmints dead

The other turned and fired fast

The Sheriff barely missed the blast

But stumbled and fell to the saloon floor

The other varmint scurried for the door

Was about to push open the doors

When he went flying backwards to the saloon floor

Everyone heard a neighing laugh

And a horse went running lickitty spat

Old Three Gun took the varmints piece

The Sheriff yelled, "Let all this cease.

Someone get Ruechari to old Doc Vale

I'm gonna lock this rascal in jail."

Three Gun helped Ruechari to her feet

Lean went running after the horse tout suite

Ruechari said, "Hey Three Gun, don't you fret.

You will get that limerick yet"