Sung by: Ollie Gilbert
Recorded in Mountain View, AR 7/26/63

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You ask, my little friend,
Why I'm always sad and still,
Why my brow is always darkened
Like a cloud upon a hill.
Rein in your pony closer;
I will tell to you a tale
Of Utah Carl, my partner,
Who died upon the trail.

Among the rocks and the thistle,
Mexico's fine land,
Where the cattle roam by thousands,
Upon the herdless band,
There's a grave without a headstone,
Without a date or name.
Lie silent; sleep, my partner,
In the land from which you came.

Together we have roved;
We've ridden side by side.
I loved him as a brother;
I wept when Utah died.
Together we have roved,
Throwed the rope that burnt the brands.
In dark and stormy weather
We gained the night-herd stand.

We were rounding up one morning,
When the work was almost done,
When that the cattle started
On a wild and maddened run.
The boss's little daughter
Was riding by his side.
Rushed in to turn the cattle,
And there's when my partner died.

Beneath the saddle on the pony,
Where the boss's daughter set,
Utah that very morning
Had placed a red blanket,
Where the saddle might be easy
To Lenore, his little friend.
The blanket which he placed there
Brought my partner's life to an end.

When Lenore reined in her pony
To the cattle on the right,
Her blanket slipped from beneath her;
She held the stirrup tight.
There's nothing in the ranches
Would make the cattle fight
No quicker than some red object,
Waved up in their sight.

Oh, when we saw the blanket,
Everyone there held their breath.
Oh, should her pony fail her,
. . . mortal's death.
When the cattle saw the blanket
A-dragging on the ground,
They were maddened in a moment,
And charged it with a bound.

When Lenore, she saw the danger,
She turned her pony's face,
And leaned from out of her saddle,
The blanket to replace.
Lenore, she lost her balance;
She fell before the tide.
"Lie still, Lenore, I'm coming,"
Was the words my partner cried.

'Bout fifteen yards behind her,
Utah Carl came riding fast.
Little did he dream that moment,
That ride would be his last,
And leaned from out of his saddle,
He caught the trailing robe.
To save the boss's daughter,
Speed was his only hope.

Such a rider from the cinches
I never saw before.
When the front . . . broke from under him,
He fell beside Lenore.
When Lenore fell from the pony,
She drug the blanket down,
Lie down close beside her
Where she lay upon the ground.

Utah picked up the blanket.
"Lie still again," he said,
And running through the prairie,
He waved it o'er his head.
And when we saw him running,
Us boys give a cry.
He saved the boss's daughter,
But we knew he had to die.

He had turned the maddened cattle
From Lenore, his little friend.
When the cattle rushed down upon him,
He turned to meet his end,
And quickly from his scabbard,
Utah both pistols drew.
He was bound to fight while dying,
Like cowboys bravely do.

His pistol flashed like lightning;
Their report came loud and clear.
When the cattle rushed down upon him,
He dropped the leading steer.
When the cattle rushed down upon him,
My partner had to fall,
No more to ride the ranches,
Nor give the cattle call.

He died upon the ranches,
Which seems most awful hard,
But we could not make the distance
In time to save our pard.
We rushed out in the circle
Where my partner had to lay.
Down in the dust and wounded,
His young life passed away.

As I knelt down beside him,
I heard him faintly say,
"Lie still, Lenore, I'm coming,"
Was his last words to say.
Now his young life is ended;
He's give up in this day.
He's closed his eyes in silence,
And his face turned deathly pale.

I went to church on Sunday.
I heard the preacher say,
"I don't think our friend Utah
Was lost on that great day.
He's a loving, brave cowboy;
He didn't care to die.
I think our friend Utah
Has a home beyond the sky."

Also found in Randolph, Vol. II, #206.

All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted

The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection
Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas
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