Let's do an old cowboy song that some of the folks requested that we do tonight. It's real sad. Rainy weather music, this. There's a blizzard coming on, how I'm wishing I was home. For my pony's lame and he can't hardly stand. Listen to that northern sigh, if we don't get home we'll die. But it's only seven miles to Marianne. But it's only seven miles to Marianne. That wind's howling and it seems mighty like a woman screams. And we'd best be moving faster if we can. Lord, my hands feel like they're froze and there's a nurse in my toes. But it's only three more miles to Marianne. But it's only three more miles to Marianne. Dan, get up, you ornery cuss, or you'll be the death of us. I'm so weary, but I'll hope if I can. All right, Dan, perhaps it's best if we stop a while and rest. For it's still a hundred yards to Marianne. For it's still a hundred yards to Marianne. Late that night the storm was gone and they found him there at dawn. He'd have made it, but he just couldn't leave old Dan. Yes, they found him there on the plains. His hands froze to the rains. He was just a hundred yards from Marianne. He was just a hundred yards from Marianne.