Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
Louis Prima
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 Mary Ann
It's only seven miles to Mary Ann
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 Mary Ann
It's only five more miles to Mary Ann
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 Mary Ann
It's only three more miles to Mary Ann
"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 Mary Ann"
It's still a-hundred yards to Mary Ann
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 Mary Ann
He was just a-hundred yards from Mary Ann
The Blizzard was written by Louis Prima.