An Engineering Technician Supervisor by day, Tim has been telling stories since he can remember. After some friend convinced him to write some of them down, he found that some places were willing to publish them. Some of them even paid.

When out of the sun, which was hotter than heck and into to the dim and cool,
Stumbled a cowboy, fresh from trail; he was dog dirty and covered with doo.
He looked like a man who could barely stand; he could have been whipped by a mouse.
But he slapped a two-bit piece on the bar and called for drinks for the house.

"Two bits buys one beer." I said with a sneer, while he tottered there on the stool.
The bar flies all laughed and called him a fool except, Deadeye Dick McCoo.
Now there's men whose odor will stop up your nose and turn all your sweat to gel.
And such was he, you can take it from me, that cowboy sure did smell.

The man was a stranger in more ways than one, as he sipped on his one mug of beer.
His shirt was a rag, his smell made me gag, but his boots were shined up and clear.
The piano kid, he ran up the scale and started playing a lively tune.
The stranger he stumbled across the floor, grinning just like a loon.

In his ragged shirt and his shiny boots, he walked like he was in a trance.
Then he kicked up his heels and did a few wheels. My God, but that man could dance.
The stranger he finally stopped for breath and turned to look at McCoo.
"I came to town cause some low down clown had lured away my Sue."

"He's a low down louse, he come to my house and he took away my girl.
She was my joy, my Queen of Illinois, he stole away my pearl."
So I'll tell you true before I'm through he'll be dead right there on that stool.
One of you is a hound of hell and that one's Deadeye Dick McCoo.

Now Deadeye Dick, he wasn't real quick, at least not so quick with a gun.
He could do some card tricks and pick up sticks but a pistol is something he'd shun.
He's got a glass eye and that, sir, is why his name is part of this yarn.
Though he's Deadeye even when he tries, he can't hit the side of a barn.

So, the stranger turned and my eyes they burned in a most peculiar way.
His smell was so strong; I knew before long that my nose would start to pay.
The cowboy he stood in the middle of the floor with his hand poised over his gun.
And Deadeye Dick, who wasn't real quick, looked like he wanted to run.

The stranger he drew and I'll tell you true he was quick as striking snake.
A shot rang out, and I heard a shout then the stranger was clutching his hand.
He'd lost his gun, McCoo was stunned, and I saw who triggered the blast.
She'd a gun in her hand instead of fan, and I'm telling you, that girl was fast.

To the cowboy she said, while still pointing the gun "I sure don't know why you're mad.
"I left you, it's true but you shouldn't be blue, you can't lose what you never have had."
"I left on my own, I'm a woman full grown, and I wasn't trying to be mean."
If you just used some soap you big smelly dope, you never tried to get clean."

"I'm leaving you both" she said with a smile "I'll be on the two o'clock train."
"One is a gambler, the other's a rambler, but it hasn't all been in vain."
Then she twirled her gun and stuck it away someplace that should never see sun.
"I have a date and I'm going to be late, I'm sorry, but I really must run."

Dick's face was red, the cowboy's hand bled, and their jaws were hanging slack.
She sashayed on out and I really doubt that, she ever even looked back.
Now those are the facts of this simple case and I'm telling it straight and true.
She left both her swains and boarded the train; she was Sarsaparilla Sue.

A bunch of the boy's was drinking real slow down at the Last Chance Saloon.
The kid that handles the music box, was still hiding in the old backroom.
Behind the bar, playin' two-handed draw was Deadeye Dick McCoo.
Across from him and looking real grim was the cowboy covered in doo.

"You can't win em all." He said with a drawl, as he bandaged up his hand."
"She's gone away and I got to say that I really just don't understand."
"It's women you see, they don't want me, and they surely don't want you."
"What they really crave is someone who'll bathe." Said Deadeye Dick McCoo.

"And that leaves you out," I wanted to shout, but McCoo went on talking low.
"Now you see, it don't bother me but to most folks you're really a blow."
"If you want her back, clean up your act and follow her on up the line."
"Talk till you're blue and tell her you're true, get down on your knees, and whine."