LIBERTY



        The day it was cold and the riders were bold
           That rode into Liberty Square.
        Their expressions were hard and alert and on guard,
           Their eyes showed a chilled icy stare.

        There were maybe a dozen of brother and cousin,
           Of comrades and friends from the War.
        They wore on their back the Union blue tack
           But had served the Confederate corps.

        They drew up at the bank and assembled their rank
           In a wary defensive array,
        And Frank James and Cole with calm measured control
           Dismounted and moseyed their way

        To the bank's polished door which is shined up before
           The house opens up for the day
        To serve townfolk and farm, to keep money from harm,
           Steadfast in the county of Clay.

        The knob they rotated and stepped unabated
           Over the sill and inside
        With an air undeterred, and they found Greenup Bird
           And young William, his son and his pride.

        Frank and Cole still felt cool so they walked to the pool
           Of warmth from the potbelly stove
        To thaw themselves out and to secretly scout
           The Birds in their cashier's alcove.

        And then Cole or Frank James - not sure which of the names -
           Ambled on up to the place
        Where money was changed and finances arranged
           To trade in a bill of high face.

        William came up to find what the man had in mind
           But before he could ask what to do
        The other man aimed his side arm and exclaimed
           "We want the bank's money from you!

        "Be quiet and quick - don't you try any trick -
           Or I'll shoot you as sure as you're born!"
        The Birds, shocked with surprize at this rude enterprize,
           Feared not to see tomorrow's morn.

        Well, Will was too slow and received a sharp blow
           To his back from the robber's hard gun.
        This alerted him fast that in order to last
           He'd better do what they want done.

        He was shoved in the vault and then ordered to halt
           Where the coin was kept all safe and sound.
        He filled up a sack so the robber could pack
           All the money that there could be found.








        Greenup, meanwhile, in the bank teller's aisle,
           Was made to fork over the scrip
        And greenback and bond of which robbers were fond -
           Which were sacked for the getaway trip.


        The loot now collected and no more detected
           The Birds were forced back in the cage
        Of the vault left unlocked, still a-tremble and shocked,
           Quaking with fear and with rage.

        Then Cole and Frank ran outside to the van
           Of their comrades still standing on guard
        And looking askance to insure there's no chance
           Of their robbery ending ill-starred.

        But the Birds found their wits and recovered their grits
           And opened the heavy vault door.
        To the window they hurried - they were no longer worried -
           Just a few steps across the oiled floor.

        They stuck their heads out and proceeded to shout
           "Please help!  The bank's just been robbed!
        "Two men mean and ugly and they did it so smugly!"
           Will's smitten back ached and still throbbed.

        Young Wymore, called "Jolly", heard all of this folly
           And he and his buddy percieved
        The gang of coarse roughs swathed in cloaks and in muffs,
           And the sack with the money relieved.

        They were walking along, their hearts filled with song,
           They were students from William Jewell School.
        The mistake that they made - the attention they paid -
           Earned Jolly a leaden spherule.

        A mean sharp-eyed bandit saw him as a gambit,
           Unholstered his gun and took aim.
        He shot off a round and the target was found -
           Jolly fell, stunned and injured and lame.

        He was mortally shot, that was his tragic lot,
           A fine college boy in his prime.
        Such a waste, such a shame, such a burden of blame,
           So alive and for such a short time.

        The robbers, now mounted, they bellered and shouted
           Their wild rebel yell as they fled.
        They wouldn't slow down as they raced out of town -
           And young Jolly Wymore lay dead.

        A posse took chase but such was the pace
           Of the outlaws that there was no hope
        That they would be caught and justice be sought
           At a tree with a noose on a rope.








        It started to snow and to gust and to blow
           And the posse gave up their pursuit.
        Through bramble and wood the escape was made good.
           It was high time to divvy the loot.

        They crossed the Missouri in cold and in flurry,
           Then once safe on the opposite side
        They would find and besmirch the halls of a church
           Their ill-gotten gain to divide.

        So they all got away on that wintery day,
           The first in a long list of crime.
        But they all had a date with a revengeful fate -
           It was only a matter of time.