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And now my friend you ask me 
what makes me sad and still
and why my brow is darkened
like the cloud upon the hill.

Run in your pony closer and 
I'll tell to you my tale
of Utah Carol, my partner,
and his last ride on the trail.

We rode the range together, 
and rode it side by side.
I loved him like a brother 
and I wept when Utah died.

We were roundin' up one morning
when work was almost done
when on his side the cattle 
started on a frightened run.

Underneath the saddle 
that the boss' daughter rode
Utah that very morning 
had placed a bright red robe.

That the saddle might ride easy
for Lenore his little friend
and it was this red blanket 
that brought him to his end.

The blanket was now draggin'
behind her on the ground.
The frightened cattle saw it
and charged it with a bound.

But Lenore then saw her danger
tried to turn her pony's face
and leaning from the saddle
tie the blanket to its place.

But in leaning, lost her balance,
fell in front of that wild tide.
"Lie still, Lenore, I'm coming," 
were the words that Utah cried.

His faithful pony saw her
and reached her with a bound.
I thought he'd been successful
and raised her from the ground.

But the weight upon the saddle
had not been felt before.
His pack cinch snapped like thunder
and he fell by Lenore.

Then picking up the blanket,
he swung it over his head
and started across the prairie,
"Lie still, Lenore," he said.

When he'd got the stampede turnin'
and saved Lenore his friend,
Utah then dropped the blanket 
to meet his fatal end.

His six gun flashed like lightning,
the report rang loud and clear.
As the cattle rushed and killed him,
he dropped the leading steer.

On his funeral morning,
I heard the preacher say,
"I hope we'll all meet Utah 
at the roundup far away."

Then he wrapped him in a blanket
that saved his little friend,
and it was this red blanket
that brought him to his end.

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Submitted on: February 02, 2020