Songtext zu 'Wagon Master's Diary / Buffalo Stampede' von Sheb Wooley

Gold in California the mighty lust for yellow gold
Drave all reason from men's souls
They left their homes and headed West

(Old California you're the land for me
I'm off for Sacramento with my gold pan on my knee
I am bound for the promised land)
Left St Joseph the first of May
Travelled about twelve miles this day
Fifty-two wagons hundred and forty souls
Bound for Californy to search for gold
Folks finished their evening camp chores
They pulled the tailgates together for dancin' floor

Blew up a storm just fore dawn
Searched for the teams they's eight head gone
Finally got rollin' lost half a day's time
Had to leave two of our wagons behind
Miss Martin's baby died today
We stopped and dug a shallow grave
Some Indians watched from a little knoll
They hit us fore we could cover the hole
No time to circle lost seven men
Counted for only three redskins
We'll try to reach the river fore day is done
Dug eight graves instead of one

Crossed the Platte River high and wide
Doubled the teams put logs alongside
Supplies got soaked flour beans
Had a safe crossin' drowned one team
Some of the folks are sick though they don't complain
We sent out a party to hunt far game
Saw some smoke signals in the hills to the right
Have to double the guard tonight

Oh Lord today the Cheyenne dealt us a blow
They drove a herd of buffalo through our wagon camp

The scout stepped from his lathered horse a shoutin' all around
And as he spoke these fateful words we heard the rumblin' sound

Buffallo up comin' three thousand head running this way
Thunder on the prairie the tremble (the tremble) this day

We pulled the wagons close together and made the circle tight
And tried to bring the leaders down as they tipped the rise
We dropped the big ones in their tracks but on and on they came
Till a path of destruction and death was on the plain

Buffallo up comin'...

And as the great herd trailed away we heard the anguished cries
The Cheyenne braves who drove the herd were watching from the rise
They surveyed the damage done then turned and rode away
And these words I won't forget until my dying day

Buffallo up comin'...

We've reached the desert parchet and burned
Past the paint of no return
Horses are droppin' in their tracks
Folks carryin' their belongin's on their backs
Children are cryin' for water and there's not a sip
There's twenty-eight dead so far on this trip

Today we reached a desert spring
And had a weddin' blacksmith made the ring
Folks dancin' singin' just like they was glad
They got more guts than I ever thought they had

They've been in these mountains for more'n a week
With no trails up these jagged peaks
We bring the wagons up with a windlass lift
The snow's fallin' early we have to shovel drifts
The animals are weak and we can't move fast
We're on the east slope leadin' up to the pass
And when a wagon breaks down in this hell awful storm
We burn it like a bonfire and try to get warm
Night comes upon us and we don't dare stop
We keep lashin' the teams but we've gotta reach the top

We left seven new graves back there on the slope
But today we reached the summit and now there's hope
Well there's California stretched out below
And all of that gold on the Sacramento