Collected by Marvin Wallace For Mary C. Parler Transcribed by Frances Majors
Sung by Buck Buttery Lincoln, Arkansas August 19, 1958
Reel 281, Item 2
I knew a fair lady That lived on the plain;
She helped me with the cattle Through the hard, steady rain.
She helped me with the cattle Through all the round-up;
She took a drink with me From the cold, bitter cup.
She drank that red whiskey That affected men so;
She's as fair as a lily And as white as the snow.
I taught her to drink By the cowboy demand,
To hold a six-shooter In each of her hands,
To hold a six-shooter And never to run As long as those lasted In each of her guns.
We camped in a canyon In the fall of the year;
We stayed there a season With a bunch of those steers.
But the Indians broke upon us In the dead hours of night;
She arose from her warm bed,
The battle to fight.
But the heavy clouds bursted, And down came the rain.
And it came the redskins And dashed out her brain.
I mounted my saddle With a gun in each hand,
Saying, "Come on, brave cowboys, We'll gain this fair land.
"The Indians have murdered My sweet little wife,
And I'll have no more enjoyment For the rest of my life."
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