THE BALLAD OF JUSTIN GIBBS

There are strange things done under the Big Sky sun,

by the men who hunt for rams.

Montana trails have their secret tales,

and many a soul’s been damned.

The Missouri Breaks have seen queer fates,

heard many a voice call “Dibs!”

But none could dare or begin to compare,

to the hunt of Justin Gibbs.

Now in Justin’s heart lay a secret, dark,

when he knocked on the cameraman’s door.

Feigning a smile, intent to beguile,

like the horse in the Trojan War.

In his hand he flourished the state permit,

for the coveted Bighorn Ram.

But under his shirt was a tape machine

to entrap the video man.

So off they went with their time well spent,

in quest of this mighty prize.

Searching the breaks, ignoring the aches,

for a monster of record size.

‘Til into their sight, bathed in afternoon light

walked a sheep, full curl complete.

Yet the man named Gibbs, with his homely fibs,

continued his sly deceit.

“Action, my boy,” Camera John said with joy,

“If you miss this one it’s a shame.”

“It’s an easy shot,” Not knowing the plot

and that Gibbs worked for Fish and Game.

Gibbs crouched on the ground and he raved on and on

of the size of the horn and the spread.

Then crazed with desire, in spite of his wire,

he shot, and the great ram was dead.

Now the Fish and Game thought they had John framed

and accused him of dastardly deeds.

They hauled him to Boulder with file and folder,

never thinking they wouldn’t succeed.

There were twelve good men who listened when

Gibbs defended his splendid shot.

For five long days, upon each phrase,

they thought and thought and thought.

These are the simple facts of the case,

and I guess I ought to know.

They say that Justin was weakened by lust

and I’m not denying it’s so.

But he claimed he’d be dead or maimed by John’s knife

if he hadn’t pulled down on the ram.

Or maybe his skull would be broken and bloodied

by a blow from the videocam.

Well, I’m not so wise as the lawyer guys

who preach in the courts of law.

But with what life brings, I’ve seen some things

that would drop a sailor’s jaw.

And if I had to choose, and pay the dues

between a repeating rifle and knife,

I’ll take the gun under the cold hard sun

and bet on that gun for my life.

There are strange things done under the Big Sky sun

by the men who hunt for rams.

But when the jury brought its verdict back

they declared the trial a sham.

On every charge against the cameraman,

“Not-Guilty” they declared.

So John was free of the felony

and his reputation spared.

Perhaps it was the threat of the skinning knife

or maybe the size of the horn.

But I’m told the jury slept well that night,

though the Fish and Game did mourn.

And when the cameraman stands before his god,

who knows for what deeds he’ll pay.

Let’s hope he leaves his knife at home

when he’s called to Judgment Day.