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Two of Eight

My back’s against the wall
Cold granite above me
Mountain stream to the right 
On the left a big ol’ spruce tree

Almost three hours back
I was holed by a shot
Given to me from a Ute rifle
And they want me a lot

My hoss caught one too
He got me to this place 
High among the peaks
His final breath to win the race

Once I cussed him
As not worth his feed
But when the chips where down
He proved a most noble steed

I am alone here now
My own personal Alamo
I know here I will die
Only a short time to go

It could be worse though
I have no wife to cry
No young-uns to carry on
No family to notify

All I can do now is 
Make them Ute’s earn it
If I have no family to mourn
Let the Ute’s sing of it

I hold no hate for them 
For this is their way of life
So I must not show cowardess
When they end my life

For if I must die
As I know I will
I will meet my maker
With my scalp belt full

I have not gone down to death 
With out counting my own score
Three of eight dead now
And I plan to take more

My Winchester is empty
That is now matter now
This wont be fought at range
They come for my scalp now

I draw my colts from their holsters
Let them come then!
To bring an end to me!
To bring me home again!

They come for me now
I can hear them now
Just over the ridge
And I know just how

My colts are ready in my hands
I will go as a wolf should 
Fighting with my last breath
As only a warrior could

Two of eight now stand looking
At the man who fought bravely
Three of bullet one of arrow have fallen
As two look on gravely

They will not take 
This white man’s scalp
Or the brave man’s weapons
It would be no help 

Tonight in the Ute lodges
There lifts a warriors song
A man wounded and dying
But still fought on.

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