Mudcat Café message #2427074 The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #113834   Message #2427074
Posted By: GUEST,DWR
31-Aug-08 - 05:38 PM
Thread Name: Creepy songs
I posted this back in '99, revived it because of another Lawrence Hammond song in '02. In the intervening years, we have found that Lawrence Hammond is a Medical Doctor in the Pacific Northwest.
His telling of this is sufficiently creepy.

(Lawrence Hammond Desert Jewel Songs BMI, 1972)
as sung by Lawrence Hammond, Coyote's Dream, Takoma 1047, 1976

They say a New Mexico winter
will drive old Satan from his home
and the poor cowboy who's caught in the blizzard
well he knows that he's never alone

Cause the Devil's on the range in the winter
His eyes are the color of snow
And they call him the Pale-Eyed Companion
He's got the shape of a wolf 'round his soul

I ain't a man of superstition
But there are things beneath the sky
that can make a long-time cowboy
lay down in the cold snow to die

He feeds on the flames of your campfire
to stoke up the fires of his soul
And he'll creep up when the wind starts to howlin'
Lord he'll leave you at the mercy of the cold

Now a blizzard it caught me north of Clayton
I had fifty head to go up to Raton
The prairie dogs they froze down in their burrows
and every step another steer was gone

I ain't a man of superstition
But there was something caught their eye
that made them longhorns sure get edgy
when I built me a fire for the night

The blizzard it sang
The cowbells they rang
The note in the wind got so strange ...
When I turned 'round in fright
two eyes in the night
put the winter right into my veins

I drew out my rifle and I sighted
I whispered a prayer to the skies
But I found I could only stand and shiver
In the light of his pale snowy eyes

And them longhorns they'll die if you run them
too fast in the high drifted snow
But I saddled my pony and I drove them
just as fast as any longhorn can go

I ain't a man to run from danger
Many's the time I've walked Boot Hill
But the ghost of the Sangre de Christos
never blinked as he closed for the kill

I never have rightly remembered
how I rode myself in from the range
But I remember that trail boss a-swearin'
as I left just twenty head on his hands

I stayed drunk the rest of the winter
Now they say that I'm touched by the moon
But it's because there's a Pale-eyed Companion
who waits for me outside the saloon

Nobody wants a drunken cowboy
But whiskey's warm and friends are cold
Now they say I'm just tellin' stories
'Cause I rode them longhorns down in the snow . . .