I gotta agree with Monahan about a rare talent who is little known out of Chicago. Here's Jim's song:

TOM HORN

It was ninety degrees at midnight when Tom Horn arrived
And you could hear that baby screamin' from here to the riverside.
But if you could grow a stinkweed in a field of barleycorn
You could surely have a little bastard as mean as Tommy Horn.

His mother was alone when she had him, his father had been killed
The neighbors would not help her, they had a town to build.
Yes, there'd be a new saloon in the mornin', first things first, you see
That was a Six-Gun Nation in 1873.

Tom Horn, Tom Horn

Well, his mother could not tame him, no stick to tame him with,
No church west of St Louie, no God west of Fort Smith
And no kid more skilled at killin' has ever been produced
He ran to bandit country and lived in a robber's roost.

You can talk about Butch Cassidy and sing about the Sundance Kid
Kid Curry, Billy the Kid, all those kids and all the deeds they did
Yes, but Tom Horn was a back-shooter, the lowest thing that crawls
He murdered for a livin' and escaped through a hole in the wall.

Tom Horn, Tom Horn

CHORUS
Word came down the grapevine, from an unknown source,
Like the mornin' dew
From a distant cousin, twice removed
Word got out on you.

(Instrumental break)

When he killed that one-armed woman it was regulator work
He killed Davy Crockett's nephew, stretched him face down in the dirt.
Some say he killed the little Nichols boy, some say it was a fake
That Joe LeFors had framed him, what difference does it make?

They boxed him in a canyon and took him back to jail
He went out like he came in, screamin' bloody Hell
Yes, and for being the most ruthless gun in all the West
They had a little necktie party, with Tom as the honored guest.

Tom Horn, Tom Horn

You know, most folks don't need no one to teach them wrong from right
They gain it from the common experience of life.
Yes, but Tom Horn needed something that life just don't extend.
The right to be a jackass in a world of normal men.

Yes, and it was ninety degrees at midnight when Tom Horn arrived
And you could hear that baby screamin' from here to the riverside.
Yes and if you could grow a stinkweed in a field of barleycorn
You could surely have a little bastard as mean as Tommy Horn.

Tom Horn, Tom Horn

CHORUS
CHORUS

Tom Horn, Tom Horn