a Jim Marsh Establishment

Andrew Jackson Longstreet,

Made the Amargosa home.

And built himself a life,

Out on Ash Meadows fertile soil.

He cum' to this here valley,

To begin his life a new.

Behind was left the mystery,

Of his never mentioned youth.

You didn't trifle with this man,

Who wore his hair so long.

Coverin' ugly scares from younger,

years when he'd done wrong.

For his gun was at the ready,

Slung upon his hip.

And if the need arose,

He’d put his hand upon its grip.

Few men could hope to best him,

In a fair and even fight.

Not one would stand a chance,

If he had 'um in his sights.

For he could dispatch justice,

In the twinkle of an eye.

To keep the Amargosa safe,

Jack Longstreet was for hire.

He strove to help those weaker,

And work for those oppressed.

While tendin' to his own,

Against the wiles of the west.

He tried to be a fare man,

Applied justice to his cause.

Which many a time would find him,

On the wrong side of the law.

But if any help was needed,

To bring down a lawless man.

From out the empty wastes,

Of this God forsaken land.

They'd go and hire Longstreet,

To give that helpin' hand.

For none could track 'um better,

Than old Andrew Jackson can.

by Danny Ray Thomas ©2001