...But my rifles are a bright as my dear wife's eyes
My arms are strong and free,
What care have I for your strictures, laws?
I'm an outlawed Rapaire, I'm an outlawed Ropaire!

The mountain fastness is my home,
Way up in the crystal air,
With a bed of gneiss on the Rockies' rim
And the green sage smellin' fair.

(Steel, Amos. Good, well-made, high-carbon steel. 37 inches of it in the small sword's blade, with a small clam shell guard and a knuckle bow to use as a knuckle duster, the grip well-wrapped in twisted brass wire and pommel to deliver a pummeling.)