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(learned from Tom Aley of UC Hiking Club;
- second version is found in Songs of the Ranch and Range)

(music to go here)

In a faroff western country where the friends are few and dear
Where the cattle roam in thousands, and the skies are always clear;
We were rounding up one morning, and the work was nearly done,
When the cattle all stampeded, in a wild and maddened run.

And the boss's little daughter was holding on the side;
She tried to turn the cattle, 'twas a wild and dangerous ride.
Now, the boss's little daughter rode the best horse on the ground,
But he stumbled in a dog hole, and threw her to the ground.

Beneath that lass's saddle, early on the fatal morn,
I'd placed a scarlet blanket, a mistake i'll always mourn.
When the cattle saw that blanket, it broke their maddened brain;
They bore down on the lassie, and death rose by their gain.

The cattle thundered toward her, and she surely would have died,
But a cowhand spurred his cowhorse like lightning to her side.
He hung down from the saddle, and snatched her from the ground,
But his cinch hook broke beneath him, and again it hurled them down.

From the dust sprang Utah Carroll, with that blanket wavin' gay,
He led off at an angle, and the cattle came his way.
This task of his accomplished, the child safe on that side,
He turned to face the cattle, that wild and maddened tide.

His pistol flashed like lightnin', it thundered loud and clear;
He failed to turn the cattle, but he dropped the leadin' steer.
A thousand hooves a-poundin' and a thousand shinin' horns
Knocked out the life from Utah, bravest hero ever born.

So in that faroff western country, where friends are few and dear,
Stands a humble little tombstone, 'neath skies that're always clear.
And the boss's little daughter goes often to the grave
Of the man who died so bravely to save her life that day.

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)