. . . the lady that's known as Lou

usually I find poetry tedious and boring, but sometimes I come across a poem that I love (hello j. alfred prufrock). also I was never into the 1800s wild west sort of shit (except for I want a framed picture of me, mr jones, and our titty MisMis dressed up in one of those sepia sears photo shoots from a saloon), but after reading this lovely bit I kinda can see how people romanticize it.

The Shooting Of Dan McGrew by Robert Service

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.

When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,
There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.

read the rest of it here (sorta long)

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and here are some of those old-timey horribly wonderful fake photo shoots that people in the midwest get done from jc penney.