Ballad of Lobo, the King of Currumpaw

Emmett Doyle
Lingua: Inglese

When I was a younger man, a-hunting I did go
Down in the Currumpaw valley, down in New Mexico
I'll tell you all the story, the tragedy I saw
on the trail of Lobo, the King of Currumpaw

The wolves had lived in Currumpaw for time past memory
‎'til the settlers and wagons came into that country
they fenced the plain for cattle and drove off all the game
so when a head went missing, Lobo was to blame

The ranchers saw his hunger, and gave an awful shout
they rounded up a dozen men to flush old Lobo out
Their poison could not harm him, for he know it by its smell
and every trap they laid for him, proved useless as well

Now, Lobo had a lover, and Blanca was her name
the hunters knew and noted this, and they planned a cruel game
they caught her in a snare and threw the rope over her head,
dragging her from horseback, 'til they knew that she was dead

Well Lobo took to howling, and he made a plaintive sound
he followed them back to the shack where the laid her body down
but their steel traps did betray him, each leg was trapped and bound
and Lobo faced his doom, shackled cruelly to the ground

They chained him to the cabin, with a collar 'round his neck
and called they for the ranchers, their bounty to collect
with one last silent gaze upon the body of his bride
Lobo lay his head down on the prairie earth and died

Now there comes a haunting, I can hear it in my brain
it drags across my mind like a cold and bloody chain
for across that cursed valley, in a voice drawn long and raw
the wind echoes the howling of the King of Currumpaw

Pagina principale CCG

Segnalate eventuali errori nei testi o nei commenti a

hosted by