gunsmoke

 one solitary moral man

the sheriff of an old western town.

he got away on a long shot

nobody expected him to get out.

but a gun in his belt kept him safe from the mob

and when he started running he didn't stop.

 he paused at a pond for some water

got on his knees and dropped his holster.

splashed some cold water against his face

began to get up but felt a cold metal plate.

a slab of metal held against his head

by a man whose face he couldn't read. 

he handed him a cigarette, hand rolled

to save his head, but the man was cold

he lifted the slab above his left shoulder 

and whipped him,

cracking his noggin.

goodbye moral man, 

may you never come home.