‘Long time ago in the wild, wild West.
Lived a tough ol’ gal, a woman possessed.
Dun lived by the gun, the fassest around.
‘Fore you could draw, you’d be dead on the ground.
Anna Phylaxis, the name of this gal.
She ruled the roost in this wild West locale.
Them residents knew when she rolled into town.
Lock all ‘ur doors and shut the town down.
Now the name of this town, Allérgiaville.
A dusty ol’ town on the top of a hill.
Used to be families could build ’em a life.
Avoidin’ them usual struggles and strife.
But lately when Anna Phylaxis come through.
Ain’t nearly the town that most of ‘em knew.
Streets were deserted, business shut down.
They needed a hero to save their small town.
Then one day a man, Epinephrine Penn.
“Epi” a nick name he used now ‘n then.
He rode into town, tall on his horse.
A Stetson sat up on his head, well , of course!
Now Epi had dealt with more than his share.
Of the criminal sort, he was tough as a bear.
Anna Phylaxis? He wasn’t afraid.
Her welcome, he knew it been long overstayed.
So he tied up his horse, knew right where to go.
The Tavern, where all of the liquor would flow.
The toughest of tough’d be there every day.
Booze they would drink and cards they would play.
Epi opened the door and glanced ’round the bar.
Saw Anna Phylaxis sitting afar.
Tossin’ back glasses-a-whiskey and beer.
No one around ‘er, a circle of fear.
He called to her, said, “your time here is done!”
“This town wasn’t meant to be ruled by the gun!”
“I challenge you now, risk my very last breath!”
“A fight for this town, a duel to the death!”
That bar, was a-silent with this stunning decree.
The aisle opened up like the parting Red Sea!
As Anna stood up, her vict’ry implied.
Hand on ‘er gun, she stumbled outside.
There in the road, they stood eye t’ eye.
Twenty-five steps ‘til the bullets would fly.
On the twenty-fifth step, turn ‘round and fire.
One will survive, one will expire!
So they turned back to back and started to count…
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25….
And on that twenty-fifth step they turn’d round ‘n drew.
The townspeople watched as them bullets, they flew.
When the dust finally cleared Epinephrine Penn.
Had saved this small town, to thrive once again.
‘Cause Anna Phylaxis would no more be ‘round.
A shot to her heart, she lay dead on the ground.
Without further ado, Epinephrine Penn.
Rode out-a-town…
To be seen… never again!
The Brown Road Chronicles 