Ballad of the Gambler

The following is one of several songs of unknown exact origin that circulated from person to person through the American Frontier about one of many long forgotten, some say even fabled, folks of the region's unruly past.

The heat beats on without regard for prayers of escape

From those who gives up or has all taken by desperate hands.

Yet one soul pays no mind, a numb, boiling shape. 

They just march on without end, drifting through desert sands. 

Where his destination lies is where that where is lying. 

For he goes long ways alone, for there's no one come to aid. 

No throat that's gone and drying nor snake venom coursing deep,

Is akin to the hurt of dues of soul that the Gambler has not paid. 

That's the name they give him, those that seen him atop his horse 

For none gives chance for the Gambler to have anything worth hold.

Through every small exchange, it's the same tried, tired course. 

Gambler takes, like many must, then back out West they roam. 

"Gambler" came from no one knows, though some say of drunkards' tongue. 

Down near Boothill he did pass through upon their dawning tread. 

They prodded him for name, no word. "This damn corpse got no lungs!"

Is what those drunkards yelled, to some. "Dumb Gambler's 'mong the dead!" 

Though the tale might not be truth, the Gambler's silence is so.

No one knows why they speak no word, or how they grew so cold. 

They hold no grudge or hate, no joy do they echo.

The Gambler is no man, some say, but another ghost of old. 

As a phantom, the Gambler travels, without note or trace.

Drinks they'll get and fights they'll win, then their memory fades to wind. 

The Gambler has no reason nor any claim to place

'Cept the desert, their endless hell, for how they've dearly sinned. 

#

Long before the Gambler roamed, they were gifted roof and cares.  

They had father and mother with bonds held true and tough.

His family cherished their life with dreams that could touch stars.

Though little they had to hold to, with peace, life was enough. 

The Gambler drifted without body, past the eyes of their blood.

Searching in their deepest caverns for riches they knew not.

Wanted to find the comfort that was misunderstood

For his folks could see nothing of this path he had to trot. 

On that path they roamed and roamed, with no end of it to show. 

Left to think, the father did none but worry of their state. 

The mother had long enough, the dream, it seemed to go. 

Though the Gambler wanted back so much, it had all come too late. 

As the Gambler now sought to lie with their blood evermore,

They came home to see their house that they turned away dance red.

The fire dried their tears out, leaving their kin dead at door. 

The smell of their ashes tainted sky and shattered the Gambler's head.

Since that day a fire robbed them of all they seemed to hold,

The Gambler's lived to their name, playing bad hands with their life.

They've drank and trekked many moons away, but yet they are not old.

For their spirit cries a song of lost, like a child's growing strife.  

All the memories they once held were consumed in that old fire.

Such things left their parents lying broken beneath the ground. 

So they cast it all out to sky, like the voices of a choir,

And though their past's out in air, its feelings lie close around.

#

The Gambler strides into the Brine, their gun kept at easy sight. 

As soon as the wasted turn their heads, they soon all look away. 

Stepping slow to the barkeep, too tired for a fight,

They ask for shots, with nickels to speak, to help them pass the day.

Drink in hand, they look straight down, so none sees their empty face. 

Shot by shot goes by too slow, till a young lady comes in. 

As she steps inside, the Gambler takes quick brace,

Hearing her gentle laughter, his mother comes flooding in. 

Out of those throwing down pleasures to hide their worldly pains,

The lady sits by the Gambler, though they don't offer her glance. 

She turns and, in a voice that could soothe the harshest rains,

She says Hello and inquires for name, holding cordial stance.

They just sit drinking themself gone, with all they've ravaged up. 

The woman watches as they try to ease their aching being. 

"If I may, silent stranger, could you please set down that cup."

A ghoul unheard by all, is not what she had seen.

As the Gambler stood and walked back to their horse alone,

The lady gave them her name and told them of distant days.

Eloise told of closed ones robbing trust, it all she did condone.

No more peers to know her secrets, just living in a haze.

The Gambler rode off without word to the next town he'd forget,

But, as they bobbed on through the dirt, they began once more to think.

The thoughts parading in them was now more than just regret.

Yet it all still was drowned out with desires for more drink.

#

Riding into derelict land, the Gambler draws their gun.

In the silence they could hear their whispers of old crying.

They took pause as it all came back, the agonies long done,

There it lay, all of its remains; the horror hung undying.

Two men rode up to the Gambler with black coat and hats.

The men looked dead into their eyes, with smiling false disguise.

They were another of many unfortunate rats

Who had come crossing the Gambler's path to face familiar demise.

With bravado loose and bare, the men threatened trial by fire,

To the Gambler, spraying bullets through their sorry husk.

Two men training pistols to any sap 'd be dire,

But the Gambler seen this come and go, a-many dawn and dusk.

With no more left to spout, the men put their hands right by their sides

The sun drifting down 'cross the way, the Gambler holds them still,

With his gun stained by a thousand souls, he locked it on their hides,

Seemed that the Gambler would get back on their way once more, until

A bullet met his body at last, piercing the right of his ribs,

'Twas an ambush from a crook who hid behind his ol' house

At last, his fate that it seemed to the Gambler that God forbid,

Appeared to be coming now for him as all the West turned black.

#

The Gambler saw his mother's face as his vision did return,

When her voice rang out then, it wasn't as he recalled.

For this was no Heaven, but 'twas Eloise, whom he did spurn.

As lonesome as he'd grown to be, this soul couldn't let him fall.

They were confused, even angry that she saved him there.

Why come all this way for someone you knew nothing of?

Why care so much if they go? Why would one even dare

Come and give him another chance, why give them such a love?

Eloise believed before that he seemed familiar,

Then it hit her as she saved him near that house of fire.

In that empty town, she had saw a boy peculiar,

Who'd come down her way often from their family to retire.

Expressing deep remorse for all that was taken from him,

Eloise gazed in the Gambler's broken, lonely spirit.

Living for them so long had seemed to be nothing but grim,

That shawl of Death he craved for, the Gambler began to fear it.

Right there in that gallery, with a gun wound fresh inside,

The Gambler felt the sun's heat, felt its touch against a tear.

He embraced that woman close, like a lucky groom with bride.

"God bless your soul" the Gambler spoke. "God bless it good, you hear?"

Where the Gambler rides out now, well no one seems to know.

With Eloise or on his own, is left still to be seen.

Though when you are lost on your trail, the Gambler may bestow

The wisdom of their own pains so that you may turn clean.