Old Betsy is my shotgun and she’s something that men end up dreading.
When my daughters get pregnant, Old Betsy is responsible for shotgun weddings.
When men impregnate my daughters, they try to run.
But Old Betsy stops them, she’s one hell of a shotgun.
When one man tried to run, Old Betsy put holes in both of his butt cheeks.
He married my daughter and he couldn’t sit down for about twelve weeks.
I give the men two choices, marry my daughters or be buried.
When I point Old Betsy at them, they choose to get married.
I make the men do right by my daughters because I’m their Pa.
Because of Old Betsy’s influence, I now have eight Sons-in-law.
This is a fictional poem.