Black Bart, a life of crime

Imagine a self-styled Robin Hood intent on leveling the playing field between bankers and everyman, by robbing stagecoaches from Wells Fargo. See, Wells Fargo did him wrong, they screwed him over a lame land deal, they robbed him blind, and no, he never forgave them. Whenever there was a shipment of gold, he arrived on foot, unannounced, wearing the dust coat of a clerk, and a flour sack over his head. He was a gentleman poet, he never relieved the passengers of their trinkets and keepsakes. Only Wells Fargo. He offered up a poem, a posy, and a white handkerchief which he left at the scene of each crime. But Wells Fargo never surrendered. For years he harassed and robbed the stages, always on foot, having walked across California more times than he could count—to carry out his revenge. He was undone by a laundry mark on a handkerchief. No use crying over spilt milk. He was done with his life of crime, and poetry as well.

6/22/22

• Black Bart Rides Again
• Black Bart, Gentleman Poet