Workin’ as hard as we can bare.
Ridin’ bent with the heat of the day.
Sleepin’ in our frozen slickers on a cold rainy night.
Like some say, it’s a weary, dreary life.
It was being written in most songs with no lies.
But I know now, they talk about paradise.
Come all you living people and listen,
Don’t be afraid of the ghost I am,
I’ll tell you of some troubles happened into me
And all my cowboy friends, all dead too.
This story has never been told in song before.
But I know how looks the behind its door.
Whoopee-ti-yi-aye ! We were the cattle.
Whoopee-ti-yi-aye ! Masters were devils.
Whoopee-ti-yi-aye ! Each day those same rituals.
For all injuries we have done to human or beast :
Rape, gunfights, robberies, brandings & castrations.
It’s too late to pray, no redemption or any pardon,
Into the shaft of hell, we live our crimes a hundredfold.
It couldn’t be described in neither lyrics nor song.
‘Cause no words exist however the tongue.
We’ll be seeking deliverance from all,
But death ran away from us.
I implore you then – I, a prisoner of Satan,
Take great care, then, of how you behave :
Be humble always and gentle, and patient too.
Please, take no part in the barren deeps of darkness.
I request you to learn some Bible’ songs.
Now I go back before they see I was gone