| Yes they always whisper to me
|
| Of the days of long ago
|
| When the settler and the miner
|
| Fought the crafty Navajo
|
| How the cattle roamed the valley
|
| Happy people worked the land
|
| Now everything is covered
|
| By The Shifting, Whispering Sands
|
| A miner left his buck board
|
| Went to work his claim that day
|
| And the burrows broke their halters
|
| When they thought he’d gone to stay
|
| How they found that ancient miner
|
| Lying dead upon the sands
|
| And for months they could but wonder
|
| Did he die by human hands?
|
| So they dug his grave and laid him
|
| On his back and crossed his hands
|
| And his secret still is covered
|
| By the Shifting, Whispering Sands
|
| And his secret is still hidden
|
| By the Shifting, Whispering Sands
|
| This is what they always whisper to me
|
| Out on the quiet desert air
|
| Of the people and the cattle
|
| And that miner lying there
|
| So if you want to learn the secret
|
| Wander through this quiet land
|
| And I’m sure you’ll hear the story
|
| Of the Shifting, Whispering Sands
|
| And I’m sure you’ll hear the story
|
| Of the Shifting, Whispering Sands |