The Ballad of Big Nose Kate

Big nose Kate, it was her fate to meet with Doc Holliday.
'Tho now long dead, I've heard it said that they met in a cabaret.
She was a buxom lass from the mining class, and he a dentist by trade.
But the old time bards knew his play with cards determined the wage he made.

Kate had a nose, so the saying goes, that nobody could forget.
Like a doorman's wedge, on the leading edge, it glistened when it was wet.
And the locals swore you could hear her snore for at least one half a mile.
But she didn't care, and they did not dare to erase her dimpled smile.

Her other charms in a gentleman's arms, quite made them ignore her nose.
Cupid's well placed darts entered many hearts, and left some to mourn their woes.
But it was unto Doc she clung like a frock that was buttoned and laced and tied.
And she wept with pain from the mighty strain, on receiving the news he'd died.

Her face turned pale as she loosed a wail heard far down the country roads.
In the swirling dust, it was Fate she cussed, 'til she frightened the horny toads.
Her grieving face through it's blackened lace was the visage of one who mourned.
And her broken heart played a major part in a life many women scorned.

Like a wingless dove, she had lost her love, and she must carry on alone.  
In the deep, dark night she would shake with fright when she thought she could hear him moan.
Under moonless skies, through her saddened eyes, she felt she could see his ghost.
It rode lone and pale when the coyote's wail was breaking the silence most.

She followed on, 'tho her youth was gone, as his memory held full sway.
And she fought and cried 'til her tears had dried and his ghost had skittered away.
She knew full well for whom tolled the bell, on the day that her life had ceased.
As a ghost forlorn, she would weep and mourn as her searching for him increased.

No longer alone down in old Tombstone, did she walk like a woman cursed.
She had singed her wings where the devil sings and drinks to escape his thirst.
Doc wasn't there, so she climbed the stair and searched 'neath a halo and harp.
Again she failed as the cold wind wailed, and the pain that she felt was sharp.

Was his ghost still loose like an empty noose?  Did it hover in shimmering heat?
Did it walk once more through an open door on an infamous Tombstone street?
Had she searched in vain where the searing pain was dimmed by a rag-time tune?
No!  His ghost was there, on a velvet chair in Big Nose Kate's Saloon!

copyright  1999 Nona Kelley Carver  
used by permission

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