Two of Eight

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.