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