Lirik Lagu The Shooting Of Dan Mcgrew - Hank Snow
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A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.
When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.
There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,And I turned my head -- and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou.
His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands -- my God! but that man could play.
Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could HEAR;With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars? --Th
When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.
There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,And I turned my head -- and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou.
His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands -- my God! but that man could play.
Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could HEAR;With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars? --Th
