Two partners went in search of gold as friendly as could be
One was young and one was old, and the gay young fool was me
Though neither one could write his name we swore upon our souls To share the wealth and then shook hands The hands that dug the gold. Summer days were gone at last and winter nights grew cold
The snow had trapped us in the pass when we finally found the gold
We took our fortune to the shack to wait the winter through
But the food ran low so I killed my friend
What else was there to do?

I drew his body just outside into the bitter cold
Somehow I had to stay alive I now had all the gold
But the howling wind just seemed to say, "You have killed a man,
And you'll never get to spend the gold with blood upon your hands."

The cabin's covered now with snow and shelves of food are bare
Satan's waiting for me now and I'm too cold to care
Is that the Devil at the door coming for my soul,?
Or, is it just the old man looking for his gold.