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GUNGA DUNNE |
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You may talk o’er gin and beer
On what the Seven have done here
As you say that with our guns we are too loose;
But when it comes to slaughter
We do more than a man oughter
And you must admit,we sure can take abuse!
In Four Corners’ sunny clime
Where I’m wont to spend my time
A-ridin with a band of hired guns
Of all Chris Larabee’s crew
The most injured man I knew
Was the tenderfooted Eastie, JD Dunne.
It was Dunne! Dunne! Dunne!
You three-piece-suited target, JD Dunne!
You’ve been stabbed and drugged and shot,
And each time it hurts a lot,
You insurance salesman’s wet dream, JD Dunne!
The uniform he wore
Made Buck Wilmington quite sore
And they’d fight about his clothes from dusk till dawn;
For the stupid-looking hat
That he claimed was just like Bat’s
Was always being snatched and trampled on.
When the Seven would ride out
Stoppin’ trouble hereabouts
We all knew the fanfic writers were afoot
Cause they’d have him sore and stiff
From being hurtled off a cliff,
And they’d whop him cause he takes a wound so cute.
It was Dunne! Dunne! Dunne!
You speeding-bullet magnet, JD Dunne!
On page one you get run through,
Then we fret for twenty-two.
You’re giving us an ulcer, JD Dunne!
I shan’t forget the night
When we got into a fight
With some ranchers who would lay us in the dirt;
It was but a simple ride,
But the fanfic writer cried,
“We need comfort! But before that, we need HURT!”
So before the night’s conclusion,
JD had mass contusions,
Six bullet wounds, and an arrow through his chest.
Plus a bear trap round his leg,
As we left I heard him beg,
“Guys, can’t someone else be cute so I can rest?!”
It was Dunne! Dunne! Dunne!
He’s the world’s most damaged gunslinger, bar none!
He’s been thrown upon the ground and been punched and kicked around
For Gawd’s sake, try some ducking, JD Dunne!
Then they got carried away
With the blood and injur-ay
And poor JD looked as if he’d take no mo’.
He’d been beaten black and blue
And been lacerated, too,
And it’s all because the writers love him so.
So I’ll meet him later on
And we’ll share a drink and song,
And he’ll bitch about it as his wounds are sewn.
Tho I’ll give my head a nod
Deep inside I’m thanking God;
While they’re bashing him, they’re leaving me alone.
Dunne! Dunne! Dunne!
You are one unlucky bastard, JD Dunne!
As they’ve belted you and flayed you,
By the Watson-Gawd that made you,
You’re the h/c writer’s Darlin’, JD Dunne!
