Santa Rosa Stage

 

The overland stage is rolling right outside Santa Fe

Pushin’ the team to hit Santa Rosa by the next day

Four passengers in the coach;  pay pouch in the boot

My shotgun guard is alert ready to protect all the loot

 

 

Six harnessed horses work out front in pairs and spaced

Push ‘em hard to Soda Springs, there  they’ll be replaced

Twelve reins are woven through fingers of my gloved hands

Drivin’ teams on this old run starting out as a young man

 

 

Get you butt up Ol’ Sal! Move up old Dan! Git up old son!

This road is getting hilly and up that grade we must run

To keep the line on the schedule, we’ll stay at  this trot

And try to be on time with the payload that we’ve got

 

 

I send my commands with the reins in my fingers laced

I push ‘em hard between stations keeping the line paced

If there’s trouble on the trail, we’ll take it as it comes

We’ve fought a few outlaws and we’ve killed us some

 

 

This coach, she’s a rocky one on these old washboard tracks

It’s tough on us drivers bent over the reins with our tired backs

But we love what we do or else we would have quit it long since

I’ll take drivin’ any day;  don’t surround me with a fence

 

 

Dust is boiling up behind and some hombres are giving chase

I  nudge the guard and slap reins to quicken up our pace

We’re too close to Soda Springs to pull up on this route

We’ll draw the guns and see if they want to shoot it out

 

 

Casey lays up atop the coach and aligns his Henry rifle

The 44-40 barks hot lead and its punch can surely stifle

Casey’s levering the rounds holding the outlaws in check

 Pullin’ my Colt, I throw some lead hoping to save our neck

 

 

I can see Soda Springs coming up just over that far rise

That old station will look good today; a sight for sore eyes

An outlaw rides up by the coach and tries to climb on back

Casey unloads both shotgun barrels and drops him on the track

 

 

The team is running full-out now and climbing up the incline

I pop the reins and try to push for just a bit more time

Ol’ Casey’s whittled down the odds with that sweet Henry gun

The rest of the gang has  pulled up short and left in a run

 

 

We hit Soda Springs with the team a running a full-out

The station man waves his arms and a loud “whoa” he shouts
I’ve got my foot on the brake and pullin’ hard against the reins

One of the team is getting wild and bucking in the chains

 

 

Finally, the old coach pulls to a stop and horses start to blow

The team is fully winded; we got to get them changed and go

Cut loose the chains and slip the tongue, get a new team in tow

Then we head out at a trot and off to Santa Rosa we go

 

 

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