Fuga
Hell was a noonday in the old ‘CF
and me and the boys of the routine had grown sick
so we took upon a plan to flesh out the old rats
the ones with the NCR bear on their backs.
It began like this: we had dynamite
And all that lay between us and the rifles was a flimsy wooden frame
So I guess in the end, it coulda only gone one way.
It was three days in the summer
Three days was all it took
Three days of hot hell and skin like eggs cooked.
The three of us, we roused up the men,
As we returned from a day of hard labor
They were just as tired as us, those men
Those convicts, those prison cell neighbors.
As we turned back from a day on the rails
Ol Jack had the dynamite in his hands
Those of us closest to the guards, those of us with hammers and nails,
Took after the bugs to begin our great plan.
We got them down easy enough
A short scuffle was all that was required to rough up their heads,
And we returned to the ‘CF, this time without handcuffs.
The guards saw us coming and raised the alarm,
They ran for the armory, “The rifles we need!”
But the lazy old guards had not our aplomb,
And so we reached the place first,
Jack and Manny holding off guards with fisticuffs.
We lit the first dynamite, and the weak little door
Caved in under the 19th century C4.
We got to the rifles with a whoop and a holler,
We’d surely now escape this hot squalor.
The guards all retreated, we yelled with glee
We’d planned to stay and fight,
But they’d all decided to flee.
Comments
The ending made me laugh, nicely done.