Wagon Master's Diary / Buffalo Stampede

Gold in California the mighty lust for yellow gold

Drave all reason from men's souls

They left their homes and headed West

(Old California you're the land for me

I'm off for Sacramento with my gold pan on my knee

I am bound for the promised land)

Left St Joseph the first of May

Travelled about twelve miles this day

Fifty-two wagons hundred and forty souls

Bound for Californy to search for gold

Folks finished their evening camp chores

They pulled the tailgates together for dancin' floor

Blew up a storm just fore dawn

Searched for the teams they's eight head gone

Finally got rollin' lost half a day's time

Had to leave two of our wagons behind

Miss Martin's baby died today

We stopped and dug a shallow grave

Some Indians watched from a little knoll

They hit us fore we could cover the hole

No time to circle lost seven men

Counted for only three redskins

We'll try to reach the river fore day is done

Dug eight graves instead of one

Crossed the Platte River high and wide

Doubled the teams put logs alongside

Supplies got soaked flour beans

Had a safe crossin' drowned one team

Some of the folks are sick though they don't complain

We sent out a party to hunt far game

Saw some smoke signals in the hills to the right

Have to double the guard tonight

Oh Lord today the Cheyenne dealt us a blow

They drove a herd of buffalo through our wagon camp

The scout stepped from his lathered horse a shoutin' all around

And as he spoke these fateful words we heard the rumblin' sound

Buffallo up comin' three thousand head running this way

Thunder on the prairie the tremble (the tremble) this day

We pulled the wagons close together and made the circle tight

And tried to bring the leaders down as they tipped the rise

We dropped the big ones in their tracks but on and on they came

Till a path of destruction and death was on the plain

Buffallo up comin'...

And as the great herd trailed away we heard the anguished cries

The Cheyenne braves who drove the herd were watching from the rise

They surveyed the damage done then turned and rode away

And these words I won't forget until my dying day

Buffallo up comin'...

We've reached the desert parchet and burned

Past the paint of no return

Horses are droppin' in their tracks

Folks carryin' their belongin's on their backs

Children are cryin' for water and there's not a sip

There's twenty-eight dead so far on this trip

Today we reached a desert spring

And had a weddin' blacksmith made the ring

Folks dancin' singin' just like they was glad

They got more guts than I ever thought they had

They've been in these mountains for more'n a week

With no trails up these jagged peaks

We bring the wagons up with a windlass lift

The snow's fallin' early we have to shovel drifts

The animals are weak and we can't move fast

We're on the east slope leadin' up to the pass

And when a wagon breaks down in this hell awful storm

We burn it like a bonfire and try to get warm

Night comes upon us and we don't dare stop

We keep lashin' the teams but we've gotta reach the top

We left seven new graves back there on the slope

But today we reached the summit and now there's hope

Well there's California stretched out below

And all of that gold on the Sacramento