The Ballad of Frisco Kate's

The ghosts are dancing at Frisco Kate's
To the wail of the violin;
They are pounding the floor wth their bony feet
In the ancient haunt of sin.
They are shouting for drinks, for whisky straight,
Bellied up toe the broken bar -
And down through the roofless rafters shines
The ghost of an evening star
Past the broken windows the girls dance by
In the arms of the men they knew;
They dance them down the middle, and back,
Just like they used to do.

For the moon is up on the mountian rim;
And down in the chaparral
The ghosts are yawning and empty, wide
In the gleam of her ruddy spell.
The ghosts are coming to Frisco Kate's
For an old time jamboree
From dusk to dawn, with the limit off -
It's drinks on the house and free!
Down over the trail from the hills above
The boys are trouping in,
By sand and sage and the canyon rock,
Drawn by the drunken din.

Old Peg-leg Sam comes limping up;
HIs crutch is a coffin lid;
His rotted pockets are filled with dust
From the golden hoard he hid.
The mouldy ghost of the Texas Kid
Sits down at the battered keys,
And the tinkling tune of an old-time song
Drifts out on the shivering breeze.
Now Frisco Kate's at the faro box;
The cards turn one by one,
And many a ghost has lost his gold
When her crooked deal is done.

They dance with Moll and the Reno Rose,
Fat Nell and the Paris Queen -
But Frisco Kate was the prettiest girl
That ever the hills have seen!
There's Mono Jack with Big Marie;
There's Slim on the other side -
They dance and drink and turn the cards
Till their dust is a golden tide
Where the bony fingers of Frisco Kate
Pile it high in it's yellow waves.
But who gives a **** for a fortune lost
When they're free of their lonely graves!

There's a shouted curse, and the flash of guns,
And the burning of ancient hates,
And once again a dead man lies
By the bar in Frisco Kate's.
They drag him out with a chuckling laugh,
While still on the bloodless floor
The dancers whirl in their endless dance,
And the drinkers shout for more.
For what is a murder when all are dead?
And how can a dead man die?
Full many a murder these ghosts have seen;
Full many a dead man lie

It is one mad night in a hundred years -
They have waked from their troubled sleep;
They have clambered out from the sunken graves
Where the sage and the sand lie deep.
They have gathered again in the old dance hall -
It's a tryst of the sacred clan;
For years have vanished and years have gone,
And broken the ancient ban.
The ghosts are dancing at Frisco Kate's
In the mad moon's ruddy spell -
The devil rides high on the crimson ball,
And it's lonely tonight in hell.

by Harry Noyes Pratt

As good as Robert Service, Barney.

yes Dabbler i have a likeing for some of those long ones if they are interesting enough is it monologues they call them