And now my friends you've asked me,
what makes me sad and still,
And why my brow is darkened
like the clouds upon the hill.
Run in your ponies 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 rounding 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's daughter rode,
Utah that very morning
had placed a bright red robe.
So 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 dragging
behind her on the ground.
The frightened cattle saw it
and charged it with a bound.
Lenore then saw her danger
and turned her pony's face,
And leaning in the saddle
tied the blanket to its place.
But in leaning lost her balance,
fell in front of that wild tide.
"Lay still Lenore, I'm coming"
were the words that Utah cried.
His faithful pony saw her
and reached her in 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 backcinch snapped like thunder,
and he fell by Lenore.
Picking up the blanket,
he swung it over his head
And started cross the prairie,
"Lay still Lenore" he said.
When he got the stampede turned
and saved Lenore, his friend,
He turned to face the cattle
and 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 they wrapped him in a blanket,
that saved his little friend.
And it was this red blanket,
that brought him to his end.