A friend of ours found a special handgun when cleaning out a closet,...and a song was born!
Daddy bought me a pistol for my twenty-first year
Though I lived in the city, not the wild frontier
He wanted me to shoot, took me out to the range
Handling a revolver felt mighty strange
Daddy said, “Hold steady, take aim, shoot straight!”
I just stared at that Smith & Wesson thirty-eight.
I tucked it away in a real safe place.
Didn’t think I’d need it, but just in case
I kept the gun loaded in a cupboard up high
Practiced on occasion, but I wondered why
Annie Oakley I wasn’t, no, not so great.
Quite a kick on that Smith & Wesson thirty-eight.
Then late one night, I heard a window break –
Stranger in the house, I was wide awake.
He saw me with my gun, though the lights were dim
He didn’t seem worried as I aimed at him
I wondered right then, was I starin’ at fate
Down the barrel of my Smith & Wesson thirty-eight.
I recalled Daddy’s voice, as I crouched in the dark
“You'd better practice, girl, so you can hit your mark
It could save your life, this little hunk of steel.
It’s a special gun, only you know the deal.”
“So ya gotta six-shooter,” the big brute said,
“Go on and use it, honey, or you’ll be dead.”
He counted out loud as I fired each round.
I missed six times, he was gaining ground
So I fired once more – the bullet went straight
From my seven-shot Smith & Wesson thirty-eight.
It was a seven-shot Smith & Wesson thirty-eight.
If you own a gun, do you know what to do
With your forty-five, thirty-eight or twenty-two?
I was lucky, but now I take dad’s advice –
Go to the range once a month or twice.
I’ll admit at first I just couldn’t relate.
Now I love my Smith & Wesson thirty-eight.
Yes, I love my Smith & Wesson thirty-eight.
Copyright © Patricia B. Lester March 2005 www.trishlester.com (661) 254-1242