large/2254/ballads_cheechako_0811_librivox_64kb_mp3/08_myfriends_service_hp_64kb_11
large/2254/ballads_cheechako_0811_librivox_64kb_mp3/08_myfriends_service_hp_64kb
English
2254
My Friends The man above was a murderer, the man below was a thief; And I lay there in the bunk between, ailing beyond belief; A weary armful of skin and bone, wasted with pain and grief. BY HAIDE PRICE THE MAN ABOVE WAS A MURDERER THE MAN BELOW WAS A THIEF AND I LAY THERE IN THE BUNK BETWEEN AILING BEYOND BELIEF A WEARY ARMFUL OF SKIN AND BONES WASTED WITH PAIN AND GRIEF
 late to whine; My poke is mighty weasened up and small. I thank you each for coming here; the happiness is mine-- And now, you thieves and harlots, take it all." He twists the thong from off his poke; he swings it o'er his head; The nuggets fall around their feet like grain. They rattle over roof and wall; they scatter, roll and spread; The dust is like a shower of golden rain. The guests a moment stand aghast, then grovel on the floor; They fight, and snarl, and claw, like beasts of prey; And then, as everybody grabbed and everybody swore, The man from Eldorado slipped away. V. He's the man from Eldorado, and they found him stiff and dead, Half covered by the freezing ooze and dirt. A clotted Colt was in his hand, a hole was in his head, And he wore an old and oily buckskin shirt. His eyes were fixed and horrible, as one who hails the end; The frost had set him rigid as a log; And there, half lying on his breast, his last and only friend, There crouched and whined a mangy yellow dog.  MY FRIENDS BY ROBERT SERVICE READ FOR LIBERVOX DOT ORG
large/2254/ballads_cheechako_0811_librivox_64kb_mp3/08_myfriends_service_hp_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/2254/ballads_cheechako_0811_librivox_64kb_mp3/08_myfriends_service_hp_64kb.flac