The infamous will oft proclaim an image mounting fear,
A nickname short and sweet to have the masses stand and cheer.
For some like Robin Hood, it is a hero's name they speak,
All riches to the poor shed light to those who were so bleak.
With others personality counts more than what they did,
Appearance and demeanor christened young Billy the Kid.
So now the tale of one who earned a worthy nom de plume.
His presence always marked with sounds of shuffling then boom.
The swinging doors will open onto chitter chatter hum,
To sounds of pianola will intoxicants succumb.
The strange familiar pattern of a footstep rhythm known,
The sound of royal notoriety en route to throne.
A cactus juice in one hand and a pistol in the right,
All bets are on to see which one this highwayman will fight.
But sucks to those whose apprehensions have been led astray.
Your lucky streak of gamblin' has met its doomsy day.
Our handlebar mustachioed rapscallion got his name
From stereotype-capers slowly growing into fame.
Just like our Don Quixote with his windmills in the sky,
This hero sees the danger in mosquitoes flying by.
A pool of indignation drowns this old-time beer-soaked brute,
And thus in lamentation ends The Tale of Wobbly Boot.
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