The outlaws sent for their friends,
Instead of two or three,
What an advantage there’d be,
The cards would really be stacked with ten,
Grace didn’t have long to build her nest,
The word was already out,
The outlaws were out and about,
Ready to claim this part of the west,
She tried to stop him, she wanted to insist,
She knew they were coming back,
The town they would attack,
But they really wanted the man with the iron fists,
He would be outgunned and outmanned,
But he was rough and tough,
And definitely brave enough,
Why he was alone Grace still didn’t understand,
No help was offered from the men of the town,
They boarded up their stores,
Went home and locked their doors,
Those brave men just didn’t want to be around,
Their cooperation was definitely not the best,
But one thing they did do,
Afraid of what might ensue,
They pinned a marshal’s badge upon his chest,
“Uh, sir,” I asked, couldn’t I help a lot?”
“Nope,” he answered with a frown,
“I don’t want you in this town,
It’s gonna get dangerous after the first shot,”
I didn’t tell him that I had talked to Grace,
We didn’t want to hurt his pride,
With him we just didn’t confide,
Because up our sleeves we each held an ace,
Now I might not quite be a man,
But I can shoot a rabbit,
At fifty yards it’s now a habit,
So holding my own with a rifle, I can,
Now I’m not going to brag about my skills,
Because I’m not the best,
In this whole wide west,
It’s my aunt who provides the shooting thrills,
She’d go hunting when we needed to eat,
Always got something on her first try,
Always claimed, “Shot in the eye,”
Because she never wanted to waste good meat,
Since she was considered just a pretty girl,
There was no need to claim,
She was “Annie Oakley” of the plain,
And have the men’s mustaches all atwirl,
“Uh, Grace, do you want me to drive them to you?”
She nodded, which explained a lot,
She was, of course, the best shot,
She could take care of the whole stinkin’ crew,
There was one problem, she was careful to insist,
“Be as careful as you can,
Just don’t hit my man,
Shoot the others but not the man with the iron fists,”
In the middle of the day he walked out in the heat,
As brave as brave can be,
What appeared for anyone to see,
Was one cowboy challenging death upon the street,
Those cowardly ten were silently slipping around,
Finding vantage places,
Where they could hide their faces,
And still have a good view of the town,
What those ornery varmints didn’t comprehend,
Two pairs of eyes were ready,
As we held our rifles steady,
Their way of life was coming to an end,
The man with the notches on his gun,
Wanted to show he was brave,
He began to rant and rave,
Knowing his back was to the sun,
Grace could see the man’s devious plan,
Her husband would be surprised,
With the sun in his eyes,
He’d never see the gun in the second man’s hand,
Mister notches on his gun danced around with glee,
When he heard a rifle shot,
But he didn’t dance a lot,
Before the man with the iron fists fired three,
To keep the record straight so everybody knows,
Grace shot the first bushwhacker,
And I shot another attacker,
Three down and seven bad guys to go,
Now in all the confusion the man with the scar,
Had stepped out of the alley,
And tried to get his men to rally,
He saw my movement but I didn’t miss him by far,
Four scoundrels at the marshal directly raced,
Some of his shots went astray,
But it didn’t matter anyway,
For the rifle firing behind him belonged to Grace,
Three more scalawags were still looking for trouble,
I was hidden the best I could be,
I looked up to see three rifles pointed at me,
“Hey, Marshal, I don’t want to burst your bubble,”
“But I think it’s time to drop your gun,
This could be the end,
Of your little friend,
The battle’s over, this time I’ve won!”
The marshal started over, two rifles aimed at his chest,
He glared at me and said, “I told you one time,
To stay away and you took my dime,”
“And you other three are under arrest!”
The man with the scar started to grin,
“I’ve got the gun,
There’s no place for you to run,
Why don’t you just give in?”
Three shots rang out and dropped the outlaws cold,
“You didn’t have to shoot,
These ornery galoots,
I think I had everything under control,”
Now the marshal’s fame spread throughout the land,
Iron Fists became a fearsome name,
As the west he gradually began to tame,
But there’s one thing I want you to understand,
He was not completely happy with Aunt Grace,
Although without her he might be dead,
She should have stayed home instead,
As he said, “A woman should know her place,”
“Uh, yes, Grace, I’ll tell everyone the story the best I can,
Uh, yes ma’am, if you insist,
The credit will all go to Iron Fists,
I’ll never say that it was the woman behind the man,”
He’s my uncle and I’m as proud as I can be,
He sits high upon his horse,
Such a manly image of course,
And as brave a man as you’ll ever see,
Somewhere out west a story still exists,
Of a marshal rough and tough,
But with the schoolmarm gentle enough,
That’s the legend of the Man With the Iron Fists.
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