My sword is hung upon the wall
Likewise my pistol bold
And ne'er again shall I ride
To take another's gold.

No more the moonlit purple moor
No more the silver'y road
To my "Stand and deliver!" they will no longer quiver
My pistol I'll no longer load.

For I've taken the road to the life literare
Vain, deluding joys I've forsook
Now every Sunday you'll find me in church
Into the Good Book I look.

My horse now pulls a one-horse shay
My life is turned around
The noose no longer threatens me
As through the town I bound.

And yet the sword exerts a pull!
And yet the highway calls!
And yet the pistol calls for food --
Now Away! While I have the balls!

          -- Hortense McGillicudy, Poems of Fen and Fetlock,
             (Seehorn, Illinois: Forte et Dure Press, 1847)