In a valley high up in the mountains, With the wind like a knife on their cheeks They carried Old Mac to his resting, When winter white lay on the peaks.
Behind come his fav'rite ol' pony, Led slow by an ol' Spanish friend. The saddle and chaps, they was empty- Ol' Mac's trail had come to its end.
There wasn't no fancy procession- Just cowboys and Injuns and such- Plain men of the saddle and mountains, And nobody said very much.
Ol' Doughbelly Price done the preachin', Astride of his cream-yaller hoss. All he said was a few words and simple About Mac, the ol' wagonboss.
"We've not come slicked up for a show-off, We've not brought no preacher to pray. My words won't be fancy ones, neither, For Mac wouldn't want it that way.
"We all of us knew Mac McMullen, I couldn't say more if I'd try. He was one of our own, but he's left us. We've gathered to tell him goodbye.
The range that he rode was a wide one, His friendships was many and deep; So now that his saddle is empty, God rest him at ease in his sleep!"
'Twas thus near old Taos in the mountains, With the winter-white peaks looming close, They carried a MAN to his resting, And quietly said, "Adios!"
S. Omar Barker, first sung by Jenny Wells Vincent in 1959 in Taos, NM. Published by Barker in "Songs of The Saddlemen." Mac McMullen was real, a friend of Barker's. The first snows always remind me of this song. Snow can come early in Taos; at the "big do" on San Ildefonso Day at Taos Pueblo, Sept. 30, snow may already be on the ground. Reprinted with music by Katie Lee, "Ten Thousand Goddam Cattle," 1976, p. 29-30; 187-188. @cowboy @lament