Twas the Time Before Smokeless in Odgen, Utah,
That a legend was born that would outlast them all.
Whether stars were aligned or the gods did decree,
Matters not one small spit, in the end it’s agreed.
Born to a gunsmith, a good one we’re told,
The wee lad seemed destined to stay in the fold.
An epiphany he had at a very young age,
That he could make any part at any stage.
And later the Big Times, with hat in its hand,
Came calling and hired this brilliant young man.
As work is not work when the task is such fun,
The young man turned out many well designed guns.
Came trench guns, and A-5’s, and Model 11’s.
His Colt ’95 in the Boxer Rebellion.
The 1911, Ma Duece, and his BAR,
Are just a short few of Le Maitre’s rep’toire.
Though knighted by King he was humble and kind.
He stood tall and worked hard ‘til the end of his time.
My poor rhyme and meter no justice does bring,
To the great man we all know, John Moses Browning.