(EARLY YEARS)

Myra Belle Shirley,
born in eighteen forty eight,
in the little town of Carthage―
Missouri was the state

Belle was smart and gifted
in music and her studies,
and may have turned out different
if it weren’t for childhood buddies

She grew not to the lady
her respected parents planned,
by the time she was an outlaw
t’was too late to reprimand

Her father, John M. Shirley,
inn keeper, and quite wealthy,
it was said in business dealings
he was wise and always stealthy

Mother Eliza Hatfield,
a descendant of the clan
who fought the feud with McCoys
in a far and untamed land

The family moved to Texas
when Belle was just sixteen,
Carthage burned soon after
by guerillas― cruel and mean

By then, the Civil War broke out
her brother John was killed,
he rode for the Confederacy
with an outlaw named Quantrill

Soon Belle would do some spying
for the South she loved the best,
she’d not reveal a single word
tho’ the Union would hard press

With the ending of the war,
the gangs would then abide
their brothers in train robberies―
at the Shirley ranch they’d hide

Cole Younger and his buddies,
the likes of Jessie  James,
had followed Quantrill also,
and lawmen knew his names

Younger, from her childhood,
had ridden with Belle’s brother,
and when he came to visit―
she was left an unwed mother

She named the baby Rosie Lee
but always called her Pearl,
Belle’s parents weren’t approving,
but accepted the little girl

Cole would never settle down,
be a husband to young Belle,
and she would sorely pine for him,
or so the stories tell

   (SEEKING ADVENTURE)

In the year of eighteen sixty six
Belle married James R. Reed,
she’d wait no more for Younger
since this man could fill her need

He was also just a criminal
who’d ridden with a gang,
but she knew him too from childhood
and didn’t give-a-dang

James tried to be a farmer
but it wasn’t meant to be,
he fell in with an Indian gang―
the Starr family― Cherokees

He shot a man in cold blood
in the year of sixty-nine,
claimed he’d killed his younger brother―
James didn’t like his kind

He and Belle then lit out
with a bounty on his head,
they went to California
and from capture, lived in dread

That is where young Ed was born
in eighteen seventy one,
nothing written ‘bout his birth
measured pride in their new son

It wasn’t long before James Reed
returned to lawless ways,
caught for passin’ counterfeits―
left for Texas the next day

Belle stayed a while with parents,
after she and James― so bold,
robbed a wealthy Indian
of thirty thousand gold

James hid in Paris, Texas,
but Belle could not be tamed,
she gambled, drank, shot off guns,
that’s how she earned her fame

She was known to dress in buckskins―
sometimes a tight black coat
with riding skirt beneath it,
diamond pin at her throat

Her hat― a man’s black Stetson
with Ostrich feather plume,
crossed belts that held too six guns,
an’ boots well shined an’ groomed

She would soon become a widow
in eighteen, seventy-four,
James was hunted down and shot―
a lawman settled the score

Belle left her kids behind then,
her parents took them in,
she was off to live a life of crime,
and cavort with several men

(CRIMINAL LIFE)

Belle joined up with the Starr gang
in Fort Smith, Arkansas,
cattle rustlin’, an’ horse thievin’
was the way she broke the law

In the year of eighteen-eighty
she would marry Samuel Starr,
he was quite a few years younger
but he’d loved her from afar

Judge Parker, called the “Hangin’ Judge,”
wanted Belle an’ Sam real bad
to stand before his courtroom bench,
and know that they’d been had

Finally caught as horse thieves,
Parker made the charges stick,
he sent them both to Michigan
to stop their dirty tricks

They only served a year there
before they were turned out,
the warden said for good behavior―
not for long, I have no doubt

It was in a barroom brawl
where Sam would meet his end
at the hand of young Frank West
who was enemy an’ friend

Sam’s bullet hit its mark too,
and Frank lay on the floor,
they both were sent to Hell just then,
their crimes would reign no more

 (END DAYS)

Belle continued with her life,
best crook you ever saw,
said, “I’m friends to any gallant man
who claims to be outlaw.”

One day returning to her ranch,
she was shot twice in the back,
the blasts came from a shotgun,
an’ dropped her in her tracks

No suspects brought to justice,
although they numbered three,
her feuding neighbor, Watson,
estranged son, and Cherokee

The Indian was her lover,
Jim July, the men would call him,
she breathed his name across her lips
as her sight was growing dim

At Eufaula, Oklahoma,
Belle was buried on her ranch,
her life came to violent end,
and it wasn’t just by chance

It was eighteen eighty nine,
she was only forty one,
there was no other way to go
since she lived life by the gun

A marble stone engraved there
at the place they lay her head,
with daughter, Pearl’s poetic words―
and this is what it said,

“Shed not for her the bitter tear,
nor give the heart to vain regret,
‘Tis but the casket that lies here,
the gem that filled it sparkles yet.”

       

Tamara Hillman

©2005