Some six and forty years ago, in dear old Texas state,
There came into this world of woe, a man who played with fate.
Years rolled his youth to manhood in a healthy, secular way.
He traveled from his boyhood haunts, and his scenes of yesterday,
To the burning plains of Mexico, to its mountains soaring high
Where the sagebrush dots the landscape, beyond the range of the human eye.
All attracted this Bob Faulkner and he became a factor there.
Not far from Dayton, New Mexico, but far from cities of care.
As a cattleman, he then began, he accepted fate’s way as a boon.
‘Til later on in Dayton town, he thought he would run a saloon.
And well he did in the business, for three years, maybe more.
Now the fatal day was not far off, for here’s what fate had in store.
He was so well liked in Dayton, that they made him a sheriff then.
And he lived to a law and a duty, cause they chose him the man of men.
Now comes the part of the part of duty, but Faulkner wasn’t to blame.
For he shot another in protecting little Lamire Wilson, by name.
His father, crazed over something, was bent on killing the lad.
But Faulkner, doing his duty, protected the boy from his dad.
Now comes the part of the shooting, accidentally, I know you’ll agree.
For protecting himself, he shot at and missed, the sinner that fate chose to free.
But now as the bullet went astray, it struck Bob’s best old friend.
It laid him out in a ghostly heap, and that was Bill Smith’s end.
They tried Bob up for murder, but they had to let him go.
‘Twas then he took to drinking, and he soon left Mexico.
He came to California, where he tried to quit and true,
But the booze had made him weaken, and he started in anew.
And also started in gambling, but fate dealt one more hand.
And the way Bob played the cards of life, was the way men understand.
He turned himself, a blacksmith, and quit the booze once more.
And today God sees progressions in each day he has in store.
Bob Faulkner lives for others. These words are ringing true.
For his family now is happy, since he started life anew.
James L. Currie abt 1920