the dawn exploded with a roll of thunder
and her frightened face is all i saw in the flash of lightening
i reached out to her with my voice
trying to reassure but it sounded hollow
as the tread of armed men became apparent
in the fog to the east
i grabbed up her and our meager provisions and we fled
deep into the forest
where we came to the cabin of the hideous man
we knew he would shelter us from any storm blowin'
long as we could provide news of the wider world

so long into the night as she cooked
i regaled him with tales both real and invented of the
glory's and and great defeats
as i treated his wounds and gave him advices to mend
morning found a strange tale of its own
standing on the porch with a hawking gun in hand
he was a man of the far west
he had come from the dry dust
he had come from the bitter cold
and now he lay his burdens on the hideous mans doorstep

he had come looking for a crew to take with
to the high mountain pass
there in the wicked snows lay a treasure
there in the harsh night lay a tomb
the hideous man pointed to me and said
here is a young man with a strong back
and not a prayer to be had for love nor money
take him and the woman too

so we set off into the cursed darkness seeking
as all men must a better life in the promise of jems and jewels
she followed me or the stranger i could no longer tell
she was no stranger to leavings
and she would leave me high and dry at the drop of a thousand hats
she was no angel
i was no saint

we made our way to the high mountains
and there labored for many days and months
from that spring
till near christmas day
without nearing our treasures
fell to fighting with one another
over every spilled crumb
over every mislaid word

no better and now bitter she left us both there
in the cold of the midnight sun
for the face of some young jim
and his riverboat card games

i finally surrendered too
to the clear thought that we had been had
there was no treasure to be found
so i stole his hawking gun and made for the river trying
to find my wayward girl
but fell in with dark men who
wanted price for the riverboat ride
the kinda coin the hawking gun could fetch
so they murdered me in my sleep
and i slipped to the tomb without a name or a grubstake

now lay me up in the dark waters
now sing me a summer meadow
by the riverside
buried there a poorboys grave of a single wood board
carved with the words
that riches are a fools game
if you have come seeking treasures
seek thee elsewhere cause this boy died here without a penny