An Okefenokee resident,
Nicknamed "Gator" McPhee,
Was regaled as strong and confident,
Never fearing that swampy sea.

Being highly skilled,
Kept him safe as any fort,
From the creatures Marshal killed,
For money, fun, and sport.

Sometimes he brought them back alive,
To show he was free of dread.
The struggle with them made him thrive —
Andrenaline ruled his head.

He'd press a long baton,
Far into a gaping jaw,
Taunt with his camera on,
Violating sense and law!

With just his two bare hands,
He'd grab them front and back,
Stretch them out like rubber bands,
Until he heard them snap!

Hunting alone one fateful day,
He left to have some fun;
Indians sensed the price he'd pay,
Long since for deeds he'd done.

He saw a little 'gator,
Floating in some water-grass;
He sought to make a purse of her,
And turn her ino cash.

He waded to the other side,
Behind her quietly;
Intent on peeling off her hide,
Before her eyes could see.

She slept as Marshal readied,
A makeshift wire lasso;
He held it firm and steady,
Then moved it past her slow.

He heard a sound behind his back,
And turned to see a flash.
He knew it was a full attack—
A thunderous, great splash!

That instant Marshal learned to pray;
It dove for his trembling knees.
It was too late to turn away;
His blood marked its deadly squeeze!

Deep in the Okefenoke,
Some indians say they've seen,
A 'gator wearing Marshal Mc Phee,
Like a suit in a nightmarish scene!

- Charles Albano

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