It was Black Bart's poetry, though, that really made him famous. With
wordplay that is worthy of a 20th century city kid who "tags"
subway cars, Bart signed himself "The Po-8". The story goes
that Bart was caught when a detective found a laundry marking on a handkerchief
he left behind. Bart did some time, but when he got out it was rumored
that Wells Fargo paid him money just so he wouldn't rob any more stagecoaches.
I've labored long and hard for bread,
For honor and for riches.
But on my corns too long you've tread,
You fine-haired sons of bitches. "
" Here I lay me down to sleep
To wait the coming morrow,
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat,
And everlasting sorrow.
Yet come what will, I'll try it once,
My conditions can't be worse,
And if there's money in that box,
'Tis money in my purse."