and at last he grew old His eye sight was fast growing dim Then one day the doctor looked at me and said I can't do no more for him Jim So with trembling hand
old fellow stood close by their side His fate he couldn't quite understand With a wag of his tail and a half sobbing wail He reached out and licked at their hands
owned down in New Mexico Swift as an antelope and black as a crow A star on his forehead as white as the snow His hair like a lady was glossy and fine
at your fate Then you begin to wonder if you'd hit the market late Wealth had looked you over once and seen you at your best But somehow you didn't fit his
Words & Music by Arthur R. Scammell Recorded by Hank Snow Oh this is the place where the fishermen gather Oil-skins and boots and the Cape hands batten
ice in his hair, Ice on his fingers, ice in his heart, ice in his glassy stare; Hard as a log and trussed like a frog, with his arms and legs outspread
Recorded by Hank Snow A cowboy with his sweetheart stood beneath a starlit sky Tomorrow he was leaving for the lonesome prairie wide She said "I'll be
boy lie on his bed With tears on his cheeks and his hands at his side The poor little fellow was dead A picture of mother lay close to his heart A faint
Jose With the same loving hands that thrilled him She picked up his gun and killed him She killed him and threw his gold dust all over his body Right
Written and recorded by Hank Snow Let me tell you a sad but true story Let it be an example to man How I tore down the world of my sweetheart She was
then, like my runt To bring others' happiness His shortness makes others feel tall His weakness makes others feel strong His features make others feel pretty and handsome And his
Recorded by: Hank Snow Written by Tony Austin [C] The Warden made a comment That the Governor sure does write a pretty [D] hand As he [G] handed me the
saloon; The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune; Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew, And watching his luck was his
Words and Music by Hank Snow This old train is speeding southbound and her whistle moans the blues; And my heart's as cold as the ice and snow that fills
waltz The beautiful moonbeams from heaven o'er lovers so softly did fall A boy from the band saw me standing and down o'er the floor made his way Are
old White Mountain just a little southeast of Nome Sam crossed the majestic mountain to valleys far below He talked to his team of huskys as he mushed on through the snow