Lyr. Add: UTAH CARL
Gordon Coll.

1
And so you ask me, little friend, why I am silent, sad and still,
Why my brow is always clouded, like the darkness on the hill.
Well, pull in your pony closer while I tell you a simple tale,
Of Utah Carl, my pardner, and his last ride on the trail.
2
'Midst the cactus and the thistles of the Mexicans' far off land,
Where the cattle roam in thousands in many a bunch and band,
There's a grave without a headstone, unmarked with date or name,
There my pardner sleeps in silence- there's the place from where I came.
3
Long we roamed the range together, for we've ridden side by side;
I loved him like a brother and I wept when Utah died.
Side by side we rode the roundup, roped, cut out, and burned the brand;
Through storm and weary darkness we joined the night herd's weary stand.
4
When the stampede came so sudden and the cowboys form the mill,
There's a ringing voice that is silent- Utah Carl lies cold and still.
Once his voice controlled the stampede as it rang out loud and clear,
And when the cattle heard, it overcame their maddened fear.
5
Every boy upon the cow range knows how bravely Utah died,
And they pass his grave in silence, and they speak his name with pride.
For he fell as cowboys should, never blanched or quaked with fear,
When he heard the steers upon him and the rush of death was near.
6
We were rounding up one morning and our work was almost done
When on the right the cattle started in a wild and maddened run.
The boss's little daughter, who was holding on that side,
Started to turn the cattle, and 'twas there my pardner died.
7
On the saddle of the pony where the boss's daughter sat
Utah Carl that very morning had thrown a red blanket,
Thus the saddle might be earier for Lenore, his little friend,
And the blanket which he placed there brought my pardner to his end.
8
As Lenore rushed in her pony to the cattle on the right
The red blanket slipped from beneath her, catching on her stirrup tight.
When the cowboys saw the blanket everyone there held his breath;
For should now her pony fail her, none could save Lenore from death.
9
There is nothing on the range that will cause a steer to fight
Half as quick as some red object, when it's waved within his sight.
When the cattle saw the blanket almost dragging on the ground
They were maddened in an instant and they charged it with a bound.
10
Lenore saw the threatened danger, quickly turned her pony a pace,
Then leaning from the sadddle tried the blanket to displace,
But in leaning lost her balance, fell in front of the wild tide,
When, "Lie still, Lenore, I am coming," were the words my pardner cried.

(To be continued...)