| So you ask me my kind friend
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| Why I am sad and still
|
| And why my brow is darkened
|
| Like the clouds upon the hill
|
| Rein in your ponies closer
|
| And I’ll tell you all a tale
|
| Of Utah Carroll, partner
|
| And his last ride on the trail
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| In a grave without a headstone
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| Without a date or name
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| My partner lies there silent
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| In the land from which I came
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| Long ago we rode together
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| We’d ridden side by side
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| I loved him like a brother
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| And I wept when Utah died
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| While riding up one morning
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| And our work was almost done
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| The cattle quickly started
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| On a wild and maddening run
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| The boss’s little daughter
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| Who was riding on that side
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| Rushed in to stop the stampede
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| It was there my partner died
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| Lenore upon her pony
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| Tried to turn the cattle right
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| But her blanket slipped beneath her
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| And she caught and held on tight
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| When we all saw that red blanket
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| Each cowboy held his breath
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| For should her pony fail her
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| None could save the girl from death
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| When the cattle saw the blanket
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| Almost dragging on the ground
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| They were maddened in a moment
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| And they charged with deafening sound
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| The girl soon saw her danger
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| And she turned her pony’s face
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| And bending in her saddle
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| Tried the blanket to replace
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| Just then she lost her balance
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| In the front of that wild tide
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| Carroll’s voice controlled the round up
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| «Lie still, Lenore» he cried
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| And then close up beside her
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| Came Utah riding fast
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| But little did the poor boy know
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| The ride would be his last
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| Full often from the saddle
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| He had caught the trailing rope
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| To pick her up at full speed
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| Was now his only hope
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| He swung low from his saddle
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| To take her to his arm
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| We thought that he’d succeeded
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| That the girl was safe from harm
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| But such a strain upon his saddle
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| Had ne’er been put before
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| And the cinches gave beneath him
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| And he fell beside Lenore
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| When the girl fell from her saddle
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| She had dragged the blanket down
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| It lay there close beside them
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| Where they lay upon the ground
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| Utah took the blanket
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| And to Lenore he said
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| «Lie still» and quickly running
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| Waved the red thing o’er his head
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| He turned the maddened cattle
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| From Lenore, his little friend
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| And as the mighty herd rushed toward him
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| He turned to met his end
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| And as the herd came on him
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| His weapon quickly drew
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| He was bound to die defended
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| As all brave cowboys do
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| The weapon flashed like lightning
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| And it sounded loud and clear
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| As the cattle rushed and killed him
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| He dropped the leading steer
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| When I broke through that wide circle
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| To where poor Utah lay
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| With a thousand wounds and bruises
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| His life blood ebbed away
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| I knelt down close beside him
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| And I knew that all was o’er
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| As I heard him faintly whisper
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| «Good-bye, my sweet Lenore»
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| Next morning at the churchyard
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| I heard the preacher say
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| «Don't think our kind friend Utah
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| Was lost on that great day
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| He was a much-loved cowboy
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| And not afraid to die
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| And we’ll meet him at the round up
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| On the plains beyond the sky"
|
| So you ask me my kind friend
|
| Why I am sad and still
|
| And why my brow is darkened
|
| Like the clouds upon the hill
|
| Rein in your ponies closer
|
| And I’ll tell you all a tale
|
| Of Utah Carroll, partner
|
| And his last ride on the trail |