The Blizzard (06-?-44) - Louis Prima

There’s a blizzard comin' on, how I’m wishin' I was home-

For my pony’s lame and he can’t hardly stand.

Listen to that Norther sigh- if we don’t get home, we’ll die.

But it’s only seven miles to MaryAnn.

It’s only seven miles to MaryAnn.

You can bet we’re on her mind, 'cause it’s nearly supper time.

And I’ll bet there’s hot biscuits in the pan.

Lord, my hands feel like their froze, there’s a numbness in my toes.

But it’s only five more miles to MaryAnn.

It’s only five more miles to MaryAnn.

That winds howlin' and it seems, mighty like a woman’s scream.

We best be movin' faster, if we can.

Dan, just think about that barn, with that hay so soft and warm.

It’s only three more miles to MaryAnn.

It’s only three more miles to MaryAnn.

«Well Dan, get up, you awnry cuss, or you’ll be the death of us.

Well I’m so weary, I’ll help ya', if I can.

Well, alright Dan, perhaps it’s best, that we stop awhile and rest.

For it’s still a-hundred yards to MaryAnn.»

It’s still a-hundred yards to MaryAnn.

Well, late that night the storm was gone, and they found 'im, there at dawn.

Well, he’d a-made it, but he just couldn’t leave 'ol Dan.

Yes, they found him there, on the plains, with his hands froze to the reins.

He was just a-hundred yards from MaryAnn.

He was just a-hundred yards from MaryAnn.