R.I.P. Robert E. Howard (January 22, 1906 – June 11, 1936)

In memory of Robert E. Howard

I wish I could’ve shared a drink with you
And listened as you spoke ‘bout the things you suffered through
We could’ve talked ‘bout your stories—and what you were into
I’d of sat there with ya—that whole night thru’

I’d of loved to heard you rant—and curse and swear and cuss
Go on—get it all out . . . I don’t mind if you fuss
I’d rather catch an earful . . . if you feel you must
Just hang in here with me, partner, we’ve much to discuss

Did you know how highly valued you and your works are?
I know it don’t seem likely, as we sit in this here bar (by the side of th’ road)
But your words . . . they’ll touch folks—folks near and far
You, my friend—where I come from . . . you’re a star

I know those problems you got loom big and ugly and dark
But you should know you’re loved, man . . . you’ve left your mark
Yeah—I know you been thinking of endin’ your own tiny little spark
But I wish you’d stayed with us, and created new hero arcs

Yeah, I’d loved to have held a sword to your throat
In one of those mock fights where you punched, slashed and smote
‘Pull that pistol, buster,’ you might’ve later wrote
But we’ll never know now—at least you did leave a note

All fled, all done, so lift me on the pyre
That’s pretty dark, man . . . that’s pretty, damn dire
The feast is over and the lamps expire
Your body lays so still—but I hate to light that fire…