Murder At The Ridge Farm

Arto Hietala | 05.02.2020 | Blues
5:09

Written and performed by Arto Hietala

Produced by Will Fakapany Song Jr III

All Rights Reserved

Clean Blood Music 2016

0.00   100 kuuntelua

Kappaleen sanat

Marie's stock of perfect chestnut mares
That the flood did not dare to wash away
The hundred shady lamplight mornings with her
Even they could not make him stay
In the still of night
He packed up his ride
Not knowing that Marie was up listening
Man, you will never get away
From the lady with a scorn

He looked over his shoulder one more time
As if tho to kiss the memories goodbye
There'd be great money in the border-town nearby
Or at least that's what Bob and Jen had said
He had spend one night astray
And knew there'd be a price to pay
Marie was not the forgiving kind
And there's nothing you can do
To appease the lady with deep blues

There was a murder at the ridge farm
Murder at the ridge farm
Chest wounds from a pen knife
With no sign of strife
A murder at the ridge farm
Murder at the ridge farm
I still hear the cries and moans
He'll never be the king to her throne

The townspeople said he must be out of his head
To cheat on a lady so fine and fair
And who could shoot a nickel from fifty yards
And even out-wrestle most town-men
She once caught three burglars at her door
Blew up their heads and robbed them blind
With no remorse
No deed would appear too vile for Marie

There was a murder at the ridge farm
Murder at the ridge farm
Chest wounds from a pen knife
With no sign of strife
A murder at the ridge farm
Murder at the ridge farm
I still hear the cries and moans
He'll never be the king to her throne

The jury was assembled fast and well
The sheriff and Drew the drunkard had some tales to tell
With his robe and big mustache
Pat the Roker was the judge
As he had been for twenty some years
The prosecutor demanded a hanging for Marie
Marie would plea not guilty of any wrongful deed
And in the end no one asked why
No one dared to testify

There was a murder at the ridge farm
Murder at the ridge farm
Chest wounds from a pen knife
With no sign of strife
A murder at the ridge farm
Murder at the ridge farm
I still hear the cries and moans
He'll never be the king to her throne

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