Hank Snow - Patanio (The Pride of the Plains) Lyrics

Written by - Harry C. McAuliffe - Bobby Gregory

Recorded by Hawkshaw Hawkins



You look at this picture with a wondering eye

And then at the arrow that hangs by it's side

They tell a story for you know there is one

With the name of Patanio the story begun



I'll tell you a story that will thrill you, I know

Of a horse that I owned down in New Mexico

Swift as an antelope and black as a crow

A star on his forehead as white as the snow



His hair like a lady was glossy and fine

He was restless and proud but so gentle and kind

His arched neck was hidden by a thick, flowing mane

And they called him Patanio, the pride of the plains



The country was new and the settlers were scarce

And the Indians on the warpath were savage and fierce

Scouts were sent out every day from the post

But they never came back so we knew they were lost



One day said the captain, someone he must go

For help to the border at New Mexico

A dozen brave fellows right away answered yeah

But the captain he spied me a-standing right near



Patanio beside me, his nose in my hand

Said the captain, your horse is the best in the land

You're good for the ride and the lightest man here

On the back of that mustang you've nothing to fear



So proud of my horse that I answered, you know

Patanio and I both so willing to go

For speed and endurance I'll trust to the blind

Patanio will carry my life on his back



Then they all took my hand and I mounted my horse

Rode down the dark pathway and I turned his head horth

Pat struck a trot and he kept it all night

Till just as the east was beginning to light



He answered the touch with a toss of his head

His black body lengthened and forward he sped

We were beating the redskins and the story was plain

When the arrows fell round us like showers of rain



We were leaving the redskins and the story was plain

When sudden in my leg that I felt a great pain

The blood it gushed forth from Patanio's side

But he never once shortened his powerful stride



Patanio, poor fellow, I knew he was hurt

But still he dashed forward and into the fort

For many a fine horse I have passed on the range

But none like Patanio the pride of the plain