Wild Bill Hickok
The Snows of Mt. Moriah: Wild Bill & Me, Cowboy Poetry by Stephen Bly
I climbed straight up the mountain
to see where Wild Bill lay,
After Jack McCall did him in
that fateful August day.
There was snow on Mt. Moriah
when I hiked through Deadwood pine.
A hundred years had come and gone
and now the turn was mine . . .
To pay homage to the man,
who lived when the west was wild
And leave behind the legends
that I grew up with as a child.
A true American hero? Nope.
J.B. Hickok was jist a man:
A deadly shot with a pistol
and an uncommon amount of sand.
I’ll tell you why I like Wild Bill,
though most tales about him lie.
He was not afraid to really live,
and he was not afraid to die.
I do not choose to gamble,
and adorn my hip with a gun,
Nor hang out in smoky card rooms
where soiled doves ply their fun.
I cast my lot with my family,
and the Bible is my guide.
With trust in Jesus as my Lord
and a faith I cannot hide.
So, why climb the snows of early spring
and stare upon this site,
Of a man so different than myself?
Some folks don’t think it right.
Like Wild Bill, I love the west
with towns still raw and small
And the folks that choose to live here,
and sacrifice their all.
So I hiked the cliffs of Whitewood Gulch
jist to tip my hat and sigh.
‘Cause I, too, am a man who’s really lived,
and I ain’t afraid to die.
(from When The Cowboys Come To Town)
Copyright 2000
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Wild Bill Hickok grave
Mt. Moriah Cemetery
Deadwood, S.D.
Author’s notes:
Sitting with his back to the door in No. 10 Saloon, Deadwood, D.T., Wild Bill was shot in the back of the head. It was August 2, 1876 and Jack McCall done it. Wild Bill Hickok (1837-1876) held two pairs, black aces and eights. This became known as the “dead man’s hand.”
My gun collecting partner, Jim Grueter, and I sold three very fine old Winchesters to Wild Bill Hicock’s great-nephew. It was fun to know these guns (two of which were made in 1876) were going to the Hickok family.
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When The Cowboys Come To Town
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