Patanio (The Pride of the Plains)

Hank Snow

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    You look at this picture with a wondering eye
    And then at the arrow that hangs by it's side
    They tell a story for you know there is one
    With the name of Patanio the story begun.

    I'll tell you a story that will thrill you I know
    Of a horse that I owned down in New Mexico
    Swift as an antelope and black as a crow
    And a star on his forehead as white as the snow.

    His hair like a lady was glossy and fine
    He was restless and proud but so gentle and kind
    His arched neck was hidden by a thick flowing mane
    And they called him Patanio the pride of the plains.

    Oh the country was new and the settlers were scarce
    And the Indians on the warpath were savage and fierce
    Scouts were sent out every day from the post
    But they never came back so we knew they were lost.

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    One day said the Captain someone he must go
    For help to the border at New Mexico
    A dozen brave fellows right away answered yeah
    But the Captain he spied me a standing right near.

    Patanio beside me his nose in my hand
    Said the captain your horse is the best in the land
    You're good for the ride and the lightest man here
    On the back of that mustang you've nothing to fear.

    So proud of my horse that I answered you know
    Patanio and I both so willing to go
    For speed and endurance I'll trust to the blind
    Patanio will carry my life on his back.

    Then they all took my hand and I mounted my horse
    Rode down the dark pathway and I turned his head north
    Pat struck a trot and he kept it all night
    Till just as the east was beginning to light.

    He answered the touch with a toss of his head
    His black body lengthened and forward he sped
    We were beating the redskins and the story was plain
    When the arrows fell round us like showers of rain.

    We were leaving the redskins and the story was plain
    When sudden in my leg that I felt a great pain
    Red blood it gushed forth from Patanio's side
    But he never once shortened his powerful stride.

    Patanio poor fellow I knew he was hurt
    But still he dashed forward and into the fort
    For many a fine horse I have passed on the range
    But none like Patanio the pride of the plain...

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    Composición: Byron Gregory y Harry McAuliffe

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