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

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