The brothers needed to take a hike pronto or a Mexican jail was the price to go bragging about taking a bath, and what you know, maybe they could get an incentive to be good boys.....

After crossing the Rio Grande the brothers
were tired and looking for the night a room
when they came to a solitary road church
of Brimstone Preacher Loonville famous for
using the local also as of a ill repute saloon.

As beggars can’t be choosers, the brothers
entered the hotel dash church dash saloon
where they make the acquaintance with a
fellow running from Judge Hanging George
a mean old geezer drivin’ a mean Courtroom.

PeeWee ordered one tequila and one mescal,
and a zarzaparrila glass to Jersey’s gloom,
maybe if they were lucky lil’brother will not
start another brawl like back there in Mexico
and all three were to go running once more.

The California senoritas weren’t too bad,
also they supported the industry of perfume,
stinking to hell and gone of sweet aromas
capable of overwhelming any other odor,
even of a brother stinking like a dead skunk.

Among the senoritas Jersey found to his delight
a familiar face, Doc Bonnie minus her broom!
Edvard, the older one, didn’t think it very wise
to open the door to yet another fatal debacle
and go messing again with that quack of doom.

When here’s coming a Californian turncoat,
Ted by name, living in Texas as a bridegroom,
and consorting with the American Federales,
with not a trace of shame, no Sir, not at all,
ready to send any outlaw right inside a tomb.

The brothers and Ted’s posse in Mexican stand,
and all hell came lose in the church dash saloon,
when a guest after eating his full plate of beans
let a noisy fart that sounded like one start shot
for the church dash bar to get on brawl’s volume.

You will not believe how fast those Californian
get out of the line of fire, tax audits or fumes,
but in that OK Corral wannabe noisy shootout
the three brothers were gone like slippery heels
wearing not peacemaker holes on their costumes.