Rosie was a widow who lived up north of town.
If you pass Wolf Creek about a mile and circle back around,
you'll find a big old ranch house
made from sandstone, rocks, and sweat.
And Rosie raised her family there.
Her grandson lives there yet.
Now, I became acquainted with this grand old pioneer
when i was just a youngster, nearly in my 14th year.
I'd go out and feed her cattle while Rosie went to stay
and visit with her children who had grown and moved away.
And once while i was feeding, I saw a wondrous sight:
A big old Golden Eagle just soaring like a kite.
So high above the wagon, you know he'd circle all around
like he was on a search for somethin' down there on that ground.
I watched him for a minute, hanging silent in the sky,
but soon the silence was broken by the echo of his cry.
As he screamed his disapproval of the place i chose to rest,
then i spotted the remainder of what once had been a nest.
The nest was old and brittle- the aftermath of age.
And it lay beside a marker nearly covered by all the sage.
My youthful curiosity had grabbed me by the shirt,
I knew that I had work to do, but 5 minutes wouldn't hurt.
So i got down off the wagon, kicked the tumbleweeds away-
revealing an inscription on a stone of granite grey.
It read, 'Return to me in Springtime with love forever new,
and dance with me upon the wind the way the Eagles do.'
I stood there kind of puzzled, trying hard to figure out
just what these words engraved in stone were really all about.
So, when Rosie returned from visiting I told her what I'd seen,
and how when I got near the stone, that bird what start to scream.
With eyes reflecting memories through the traces of a tear,
she took me by the hand and said "there's something you oughta hear.
I'll share with you a secret that up till now's been known by only me and God above
of the Eagle and the Stone.
The caliche hills that weave their way through what once was boxed t-range
was once the home of eagles that nestled on the plains.
And the Indians had a legend, that they believe is true,
that for every man who lived out here, an eagle lived here too.
And if the eagles nested when a man would take a wife,
then the spirits of the lovers claimed the nesting ground for life.
And when their life was over
there spirit would ascend
and gather with the eagles
to dance upon the wind."
And that was how it happened, as if decreed by fate.
For the day i got myself a wife, the eagle took a mate.
And has he made for her a nest of willow branch and silt,
I was borne across the threshold of a ranchhouse not yet built.
And so we spent our wedding night beneath the prairie moon
in a Studebaker wagon in the early part of June.
And as she held me in her arms
and declared to me her love, she said
"if we should ever part, I swear by God above
that in springtime I will return to you
as when our love began
and with the eagles we will go
and dance upon the wind."
If you pass Wolf Creek about a mile and circle back around,
you'll find a big old ranch house
made from sandstone, rocks, and sweat.
And Rosie raised her family there.
Her grandson lives there yet.
Now, I became acquainted with this grand old pioneer
when i was just a youngster, nearly in my 14th year.
I'd go out and feed her cattle while Rosie went to stay
and visit with her children who had grown and moved away.
And once while i was feeding, I saw a wondrous sight:
A big old Golden Eagle just soaring like a kite.
So high above the wagon, you know he'd circle all around
like he was on a search for somethin' down there on that ground.
I watched him for a minute, hanging silent in the sky,
but soon the silence was broken by the echo of his cry.
As he screamed his disapproval of the place i chose to rest,
then i spotted the remainder of what once had been a nest.
The nest was old and brittle- the aftermath of age.
And it lay beside a marker nearly covered by all the sage.
My youthful curiosity had grabbed me by the shirt,
I knew that I had work to do, but 5 minutes wouldn't hurt.
So i got down off the wagon, kicked the tumbleweeds away-
revealing an inscription on a stone of granite grey.
It read, 'Return to me in Springtime with love forever new,
and dance with me upon the wind the way the Eagles do.'
I stood there kind of puzzled, trying hard to figure out
just what these words engraved in stone were really all about.
So, when Rosie returned from visiting I told her what I'd seen,
and how when I got near the stone, that bird what start to scream.
With eyes reflecting memories through the traces of a tear,
she took me by the hand and said "there's something you oughta hear.
I'll share with you a secret that up till now's been known by only me and God above
of the Eagle and the Stone.
The caliche hills that weave their way through what once was boxed t-range
was once the home of eagles that nestled on the plains.
And the Indians had a legend, that they believe is true,
that for every man who lived out here, an eagle lived here too.
And if the eagles nested when a man would take a wife,
then the spirits of the lovers claimed the nesting ground for life.
And when their life was over
there spirit would ascend
and gather with the eagles
to dance upon the wind."
And that was how it happened, as if decreed by fate.
For the day i got myself a wife, the eagle took a mate.
And has he made for her a nest of willow branch and silt,
I was borne across the threshold of a ranchhouse not yet built.
And so we spent our wedding night beneath the prairie moon
in a Studebaker wagon in the early part of June.
And as she held me in her arms
and declared to me her love, she said
"if we should ever part, I swear by God above
that in springtime I will return to you
as when our love began
and with the eagles we will go
and dance upon the wind."
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