big mountain and one eyed harvey lit out in the early dawn
the law nearly clipped them in card game “come on”
the horses were sore and harvey was still sick
heading for denver and streets of red brick
avoiding the hell of dead head mines
and cold winds blowing high in the cold
“denver’s sweet apple, soft at the core”
whispered big mountain as harvey did snore
the tramps lay sleeping as the posse came a calling
mountain got away but harvey fell and kept falling
somewhere in old denver, mountain’s the chief
and harvey was hanging, an old saddle thief