Support Your Local Bounty Hunter

L M Glegg
L M Glegg
Nov 7 · 2 min read
Image by L M Glegg

’Twas the night after New Year,
and all through the jail,
the pris’ners were sleeping.
Not one wanted bail.

The warden’s confounded,
the lawyers, confused.
Appeals weren’t forthcoming,
paroles went unused.

The prison was crowded
five or more to a cell.
The plumbing was failing,
things started to smell.

But they slept rather soundly
in uncomfortable beds.
Early release
was all they had to dread.

Each one knew what awaited,
should they venture outside
a mountain of vengeance,
a cruel crimson tide.

Her nickname was Kansas,
and she’d come from the past.
She was cold, she was ruthless.
She was deadly and fast.

Shawnee was her father,
Irish, her mom.
She’s wise as a serpent,
but a ticking time bomb.

For the sneak-thieves and drunkards
she cared not a hoot.
It was the rapists and killers
she wanted to shoot.

When one fell to her skills,
she made it quite clear
“To all with black hearts,
there is reason to fear.”

Day and night she patrols
‘cross the U S of A,
seeking out justice,
keeping bad guys at bay.

So if crime is your passion,
take it from me
better check first for Kansas,
you never know where she’ll be.

Image by L M Glegg

Copyright L M Glegg 1997–2019. All rights reserved.

No Crime in Rhymin’

poetry that dares to be funny, edgy, irreverent

L M Glegg

Written by

L M Glegg

Author. Digital Artist. Small-town Farmboy.

No Crime in Rhymin’

poetry that dares to be funny, edgy, irreverent

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