Collected by Sung by Mrs. Montie Martin
Brenda Jo Upton Jasper, Ark.
April 25, 1962.
Reel 401, Item 10
"Bury me not on the lone prairee,"
These words came low but mornfully From the palest lips of a youth who lay On his dying coach at the close of day.
He had watched and fainted, fell o'er his brow Death's shades were gathering o'er him now.
He thought of his home and his loved ones nigh, And the cowboys gathered to see him die.
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairee Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me,
And the wild buffalo will paw my grave And the wild Cheyennes will sing the praise.
The wind blew free from the delicate west,
They give no heed to his dying request.
They lowered him lower just six by three,
And they buried him there on the lone prairee.
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