John Fraser

Early day rangers were a tough and hardy lot Little John Fraser, he came here as a Scot And he rode that railroad, take it on out west Just a hope and a prayer for the best That Bluestem cuttin' engine offered no farewells Two years over twenty, feeble pockets and poor health With a plow in the ground and the oxen on the hitch He found this life of livin' awfully fit Where the snakes and the fleas, they carry their disease and they're happy to make you ill Where the Comanche eyes intercept the red skies, creeping up over the hill If your warm-hearted body is still beating in the soddie and the plains haven't made the kill Then that cold-blooded winter surely will Eliza my dear, for you the only one The sun sets and rises, I awake these seven months Inform my father, tell m'ladies what I wrote Come warned, come armed, come home Where the snakes and the fleas, they carry their disease and they're happy to make you ill Where the Comanche eyes intercept the red skies, creeping up over the hill If your warm-hearted body is still beating in the soddie and the plains haven't made the kill Then that cold-blooded winter surely will Little John Fraser was a tough and hardy lot Hundred-sixty acres and a house made out of sod With the grit in his teeth and the blood that he shed Imagine the grief of the place he fled Where the snakes and the fleas, they carry their disease and they're happy to make you ill Where the Comanche eyes intercept the red skies, creeping up over the hill If your warm-hearted body is still beating in the soddie and the plains haven't made the kill Then that cold-blooded winter surely will