| And now my friends you’ve asked me what makes me sad and still
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| And why my brow is darkened like the clouds upon the hill
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| Run in your ponies closer and I’ll tell to you my tale
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| Of Utah Carol my partner and his last ride on the trail
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| We rode the range together and rode it side by side
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| I loved him like a brother, and I wept when Utah died
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| We were rounding up one morning when work was almost done
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| When on his side the cattle started on a frightened run
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| Underneath the saddle that the boss’s daughter rode
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| Utah that very morning had placed a bright red robe
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| So the saddle might ride easy for Lenore his little friend
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| And it was this red blanket that brought him to his end
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| The blanket was now dragging behind her on the ground
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| The frightened cattle saw it and charged it with a bound
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| Lenore then saw her danger and turned her pony’s face
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| And leaning in the saddle tied the blanket to its place
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| But in leaning lost her balance, fell in front of that wild tide
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| «Lay still Lenore I’m coming» were the words that Utah cried
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| His faithful pony saw her and reached her in a bound
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| I thought he’d been successful, and raised her from the ground
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| But the weight upon the saddle had not been felt before
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| His backcinch snapped like thunder and he fell by Lenore
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| Picking up the blanket he swung it over his head
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| And started cross the prairie, «Lay still Lenore» he said
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| When he got the stampede turned and saved Lenore his friend
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| He turned to face the cattle and meet his fatal end
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| His six gun flashed like lightning, the report rang loud and clear
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| As the cattle rushed and killed him he dropped the leading steer
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| On his funeral morning I heard the preacher say
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| I hope we’ll all meet Utah at the roundup far away
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| Then they wrapped him in a blanket that saved his little friend
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| And it was this red blanket that brought him to his end |