02/24/2025
Tall Tales with The Outlaw Pall "cletus" Smenis
The Ballad of Dead-Eye Cletus
Out in the dust-choked wastelands of the West, where law was just a suggestion and vengeance rode on horseback, there was a man named Cletus—though most folks just called him Dead-Eye.
Now, Cletus wasn’t rich, not in gold nor in friends, but he had himself a .357 that never told a lie. Some whispered he stole it, others figured he won it in a card game turned bloody. Either way, that iron sat heavy on his hip, and he swore if the law ever came knocking, he wouldn’t be seeing no jailhouse walls. No sir—if the reaper was riding in, Cletus planned to meet him in a storm of bullets.
See, Cletuses daddy wasn’t no better. He left his boy one thing when he died—a sawed-off shotgun, the kind that made men think twice. It only carried one shot, but one was all it needed. Cletus figured if he had to go, someone was going with him.
And then there was that old .22, the one he’d had since he was just a boy. Scope was dead-on, and Cletus had learned young that a steady hand and a cold heart could settle just about any score.
So when the law finally came for him, Cletus didn’t run. Didn’t beg. Didn’t drop his guns. He just squared his shoulders, spat in the dirt, and let that steel do the talking. When the smoke cleared, the West had one less outlaw, and the Devil had himself a new guest.
And if you listen close on a still night, out where the wind howls through the canyons, you might just hear the ghost of Dead-Eye Cletus whisperin’ through the dust—“Suicide by lawman, or I get what’s mine.”
(Original Lyrics)
Tommy Two Guns
Well maybe I'm not loaded
But this .357 is
I'm not saying that it's stolen
But I'm not saying that it's not
And if I get caught I wont be doing time
No it's su***de by cop or I'll get what's mine
This sawed off belonged to my papa
I got it right after he died
And yea it only holds one bullet
It'll blow a hole straight threw this guy
And if I get caught I wont be doing time
No it's su***de by cop or I'll get what's mine
I've had this .22 rifle forever
And believe me the scope us dead on
And if you think I'm not gunning for you
Then your dead fu**in wrong
And if I get caught I wont be doing time
No it's su***de by cop or I'll get what's mine
And when I'm gone ill rot in hell and that's just fine
