Angels Can Do No More

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We laid poor Sammy to his rest
Dug a deep hole and did our best
To say the right thing as we knocked the dirt from the
So far from God and so near to a life of trouble

No more than a boy when he died like a man
We stood around his grave with our hats in our hand
Leanin' first on one foot and then on the other
Wishin' we'd a knowed what to say to write to his

But there ain't much to say when a man dies young
Before he can do what he should have done
Leastways the cowboys that knowed him swore
Sammy done his damnedest
Angels can do no more

We stared at our boots and nobody spoke
'Til the trail boss coughed, cleared his throat
And said to the cook, "Tear a plank off the
And bring it here to mark the grave of our young

So the wranglers made a fire out of dry prairie coal
The wind fanned the flames 'til the brandin' iron
Then we burned in the wood the words we should've been
Down on our knees like a bunch of growed men prayin'


Sammy rode hard and never complained
Two long years on the Rockin' Chair range
Chasin' them steers down the salt fork of the Red
Angels' and cowboys' work goes on forever

And as for myself when it's my time to die
I hope there's a cowhand or two standin' by
To pack down the dirt and carry the news to the
And say over me what we should've said over Sammy


Sammy done his damnedest
Angels can do no more

Autor(es): Andy Wilkinson

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