Chords for Billy Walker Patanio The Pride of the Plains
Tempo:
91.9 bpm
Chords used:
D
A
G
F#m
B
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[A] [D]
[A]
[D] You look at the picture [A] with a [D] wondering eye, then at the arrow that's hanging close by.
Say, tell a [G] story, yes, there's [D] one I know, of a horse I once stoned out in New Mexico.
He was swift as an [A] antelope and [D] black as the crow, with a star on his [A] forehead as [D] white as the snow.
His arch neck [G] was hidden by a [D] long flowing mane, and they called him Petanio, the [A] pride [D] of the plains.
The country was [A] new, then the settlers [D] were scarce, the Indians on the [A] warpath were savage [D] and fierce.
Scouts were sent [G] out every [D] day from the post, but they never came back, [A] so we knew [D] they were lost.
One day the captain said someone must go, for help to the border of New Mexico.
A dozen brave [G] fellows straightway [D] answered here, but the captain [A] he spied me and said, son, come here.
[G] [G] [D]
[A]
[D] Petanio beside me, his nose in my hand, said, the captain, your horse is the best in the land.
You're good for this ride, you're the lightest man here, on the back of that [A] mustang, you've nothing [D] to fear.
I'm proud of my horse, sir, [A] I [D] answered, you know.
Petanio and I are [A] both willing [D] to go.
They all shook my [G] hand as I mounted [D] the black.
Petanio sped forward and I gave him his slack.
For eighty long miles [A] o'er the plains we [D] must go, for help to the border [A] of New [D] Mexico.
The black struck a trot [G] and he kept [D] it all night, till just as the [A] east was beginning [D] to light.
When back from [A] behind me there came [D] a fierce yell, we knew that the [A] Redskins were hot on [D] our trail.
I rose up and [G] jingled the [D] bells on his rein, and I stroked his neck softly [A] and I [D] called him by name.
[G] [A] [D]
[A] [D]
[A] [D] He answered my touch with a toss of his hip, and his black body lengthened as onward he sped.
The arrows fell [G] round me like showers [D] of rain, when in my [A] left leg, oh, I felt a [D] sharp pain.
The red blood was [A] flowing from [D] Petanio's side, but he never once shortened his powerful stride.
Petanio, poor fellow, I knew he was hurt, but still [A] he dashed onward and on to the fort.
By good care, Petanio [A] and I [D] were soon well, of his death long years [A] after, it hurts [D] me to tell.
They [F#m] write songs [G] about him, the cowboys [D] still sing, the legend lives on of his long flowing mane.
So look at the arrow that hangs on the wall, it will shot through my leg, [A] boots, [D] stirrup and all.
On many fine horses [G] I've since [D] drawn the reins, but none [B] like Petanio, the pride of the plains.
[A] [D]
[A]
[D] You look at the picture [A] with a [D] wondering eye, then at the arrow that's hanging close by.
Say, tell a [G] story, yes, there's [D] one I know, of a horse I once stoned out in New Mexico.
He was swift as an [A] antelope and [D] black as the crow, with a star on his [A] forehead as [D] white as the snow.
His arch neck [G] was hidden by a [D] long flowing mane, and they called him Petanio, the [A] pride [D] of the plains.
The country was [A] new, then the settlers [D] were scarce, the Indians on the [A] warpath were savage [D] and fierce.
Scouts were sent [G] out every [D] day from the post, but they never came back, [A] so we knew [D] they were lost.
One day the captain said someone must go, for help to the border of New Mexico.
A dozen brave [G] fellows straightway [D] answered here, but the captain [A] he spied me and said, son, come here.
[G] [G] [D]
[A]
[D] Petanio beside me, his nose in my hand, said, the captain, your horse is the best in the land.
You're good for this ride, you're the lightest man here, on the back of that [A] mustang, you've nothing [D] to fear.
I'm proud of my horse, sir, [A] I [D] answered, you know.
Petanio and I are [A] both willing [D] to go.
They all shook my [G] hand as I mounted [D] the black.
Petanio sped forward and I gave him his slack.
For eighty long miles [A] o'er the plains we [D] must go, for help to the border [A] of New [D] Mexico.
The black struck a trot [G] and he kept [D] it all night, till just as the [A] east was beginning [D] to light.
When back from [A] behind me there came [D] a fierce yell, we knew that the [A] Redskins were hot on [D] our trail.
I rose up and [G] jingled the [D] bells on his rein, and I stroked his neck softly [A] and I [D] called him by name.
[G] [A] [D]
[A] [D]
[A] [D] He answered my touch with a toss of his hip, and his black body lengthened as onward he sped.
The arrows fell [G] round me like showers [D] of rain, when in my [A] left leg, oh, I felt a [D] sharp pain.
The red blood was [A] flowing from [D] Petanio's side, but he never once shortened his powerful stride.
Petanio, poor fellow, I knew he was hurt, but still [A] he dashed onward and on to the fort.
By good care, Petanio [A] and I [D] were soon well, of his death long years [A] after, it hurts [D] me to tell.
They [F#m] write songs [G] about him, the cowboys [D] still sing, the legend lives on of his long flowing mane.
So look at the arrow that hangs on the wall, it will shot through my leg, [A] boots, [D] stirrup and all.
On many fine horses [G] I've since [D] drawn the reins, but none [B] like Petanio, the pride of the plains.
[A] [D]
Key:
D
A
G
F#m
B
D
A
G
_ _ [A] _ _ _ [D] _
_ _ _ _ [A] _ _
_ _ [D] _ _ You look at the picture [A] with a [D] wondering eye, then at the arrow that's hanging close by.
Say, tell a [G] story, yes, there's [D] one I know, of a horse I once stoned out in New Mexico.
He was swift as an [A] antelope and [D] black as the crow, with a star on his [A] forehead as [D] white as the snow.
His arch neck [G] was hidden by a [D] long flowing mane, and they called him Petanio, the [A] pride [D] of the plains. _
The country was [A] new, then the settlers [D] were scarce, the Indians on the [A] warpath were savage [D] and fierce.
Scouts were sent [G] out every [D] day from the post, but they never came back, [A] so we knew [D] they were lost. _
One day the captain said someone must go, for help to the border of New Mexico.
A dozen brave [G] fellows straightway [D] answered here, but the captain [A] he spied me and said, son, come here. _
[G] _ _ _ [G] _ _ [D] _
_ _ _ [A] _ _ _
_ _ [D] _ _ Petanio beside me, his nose in my hand, said, the captain, your horse is the best in the land.
You're good for this ride, you're the lightest man here, on the back of that [A] mustang, you've nothing [D] to fear.
I'm proud of my horse, sir, [A] I [D] answered, you know.
Petanio and I are [A] both willing [D] to go.
They all shook my [G] hand as I mounted [D] the black.
Petanio sped forward and I gave him his slack.
For eighty long miles [A] o'er the plains we [D] must go, for help to the border [A] of New [D] Mexico.
The black struck a trot [G] and he kept [D] it all night, till just as the [A] east was beginning [D] to light. _
When back from [A] behind me there came [D] a fierce yell, we knew that the [A] Redskins were hot on [D] our trail.
I rose up and [G] jingled the [D] bells on his rein, and I stroked his neck softly [A] and I [D] called him by name. _
[G] _ _ [A] _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [A] _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [A] _ [D] He answered my touch with a toss of his hip, and his black body lengthened as onward he sped.
The arrows fell [G] round me like showers [D] of rain, when in my [A] left leg, oh, I felt a [D] sharp pain.
The red blood was [A] flowing from [D] Petanio's side, but he never once shortened his powerful stride.
Petanio, poor fellow, I knew he was hurt, but still [A] he dashed onward and on to the fort.
By good care, Petanio [A] and I [D] were soon well, of his death long years [A] after, it hurts [D] me to tell.
They [F#m] write songs [G] about him, the cowboys [D] still sing, the legend lives on of his long flowing mane.
So look at the arrow that hangs on the wall, it will shot through my leg, [A] boots, [D] stirrup and all.
On many fine horses [G] I've since [D] drawn the reins, but none [B] like Petanio, the pride of the plains. _
_ _ _ [A] _ _ [D] _
_ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [A] _ _
_ _ [D] _ _ You look at the picture [A] with a [D] wondering eye, then at the arrow that's hanging close by.
Say, tell a [G] story, yes, there's [D] one I know, of a horse I once stoned out in New Mexico.
He was swift as an [A] antelope and [D] black as the crow, with a star on his [A] forehead as [D] white as the snow.
His arch neck [G] was hidden by a [D] long flowing mane, and they called him Petanio, the [A] pride [D] of the plains. _
The country was [A] new, then the settlers [D] were scarce, the Indians on the [A] warpath were savage [D] and fierce.
Scouts were sent [G] out every [D] day from the post, but they never came back, [A] so we knew [D] they were lost. _
One day the captain said someone must go, for help to the border of New Mexico.
A dozen brave [G] fellows straightway [D] answered here, but the captain [A] he spied me and said, son, come here. _
[G] _ _ _ [G] _ _ [D] _
_ _ _ [A] _ _ _
_ _ [D] _ _ Petanio beside me, his nose in my hand, said, the captain, your horse is the best in the land.
You're good for this ride, you're the lightest man here, on the back of that [A] mustang, you've nothing [D] to fear.
I'm proud of my horse, sir, [A] I [D] answered, you know.
Petanio and I are [A] both willing [D] to go.
They all shook my [G] hand as I mounted [D] the black.
Petanio sped forward and I gave him his slack.
For eighty long miles [A] o'er the plains we [D] must go, for help to the border [A] of New [D] Mexico.
The black struck a trot [G] and he kept [D] it all night, till just as the [A] east was beginning [D] to light. _
When back from [A] behind me there came [D] a fierce yell, we knew that the [A] Redskins were hot on [D] our trail.
I rose up and [G] jingled the [D] bells on his rein, and I stroked his neck softly [A] and I [D] called him by name. _
[G] _ _ [A] _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [A] _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [A] _ [D] He answered my touch with a toss of his hip, and his black body lengthened as onward he sped.
The arrows fell [G] round me like showers [D] of rain, when in my [A] left leg, oh, I felt a [D] sharp pain.
The red blood was [A] flowing from [D] Petanio's side, but he never once shortened his powerful stride.
Petanio, poor fellow, I knew he was hurt, but still [A] he dashed onward and on to the fort.
By good care, Petanio [A] and I [D] were soon well, of his death long years [A] after, it hurts [D] me to tell.
They [F#m] write songs [G] about him, the cowboys [D] still sing, the legend lives on of his long flowing mane.
So look at the arrow that hangs on the wall, it will shot through my leg, [A] boots, [D] stirrup and all.
On many fine horses [G] I've since [D] drawn the reins, but none [B] like Petanio, the pride of the plains. _
_ _ _ [A] _ _ [D] _
_ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _