We laid poor Sammy to his rest Dug a deep hole and did our best To say the right thing as we knocked the dirt from the shovel So far from God and so near to a life of trouble [ Lyrics from: http://www.cloverlyrics.com/e61157-brenn_hill~angels_can_do_no_more_lyrics.html ] No more than a boy when he died like a man We stood around his grave with our hats in our hand Leanin' first on one foot and then on the other Wishin' we'd a knowed what to say to write to his mother
CHORUS: But there ain't much to say when a man dies young Before he can do what he should have done Leastways the cowboys that knowed him swore Sammy done his damnedest Angels can do no more
We stared at our boots and nobody spoke 'Til the trail boss coughed, cleared his throat And said to the cook, "Tear a plank off the chuckwagon And bring it here to mark the grave of our young companion."
So the wranglers made a fire out of dry prairie coal The wind fanned the flames 'til the brandin' iron glowed Then we burned in the wood the words we should've been sayin' Down on our knees like a bunch of growed men prayin'
CHORUS
Sammy rode hard and never complained Two long years on the Rockin' Chair range Chasin' them steers down the salt fork of the Red River Angels' and cowboys' work goes on forever
And as for myself when it's my time to die I hope there's a cowhand or two standin' by To pack down the dirt and carry the news to the family And say over me what we should've said over Sammy.
CHORUS
CHORUS Sammy done his damnedest Angels can do no more