The Blizzard

(альбом: Tall Tales And Short Tempers - 1961)

There's a blizzard coming on, how I'm wishing I was home
For my pony's lame, and he can hardly stand
Listen to that norther sigh, if we don't get home we'll die
But, it's only seven miles to Mary Ann
It's only seven miles to Mary Ann

You can bet we're on her mind, for it's nearly suppertime
And I'll bet there's hot biscuits in the pan
Lord, my hands feel like they're froze
And there's a numbness in my toes
But it's only five more miles to Mary Ann
It's only five more miles to Mary Ann

That wind's howling and it seems
Mighty like a woman's scream
And we'd best be moving faster if we can
Dan just think about that barn
With the hay so soft and warm
For it's only three more miles to Mary Ann
It's only three more miles to Mary Ann

Dan get up you ornery cuss, or you'll be the death of us
I'm so weary, but I'll help you if I can
All right, Dan, perhaps it's best if we stop a while and rest
For it's still a hundred yards to Mary Ann
It's still a hundred yards to Mary Ann

Late that night the storm was gone
They found him there at dawn
He'd have made it but he just couldn't leave old Dan
Yes, they found him there on the plains, his hands froze to the reins
He was just a hundred yards form Mary Ann
He was just a hundred yards from Mary Ann