The Martin Ana The Coys

The Martin and the Coys

Hylo Brown & The Blue Ridge Mountain Boys

Gather round me children, while I tell a story

Of the mountains in the days when guns was law.

When two families got disputin'

It was sure to end in shootin'

So just listen close, I'll tell you what I saw.

All their fightin' started one bright Sunday morning,

When old Grandpa Coy was full of mountain dew;

Just as quiet as a church-mouse

He stole in the Martin's hen-house,

'Cause the Coys they needed eggs for breakfast too.

Oh, the Martins and the Coys,

They was reckless mountain boys,

And old Grandpa Coy has gone where angels live.

When they found him on the mountain

He was bleedin' like a fountain,

For they punctured him till he looked like a sieve.

Solo(Mandolin & Guitar)

After that they started out to fight in earnest,

And they scarred the mountains up with shot and shell.

There was uncles, brothers, cousins -

Sure, they bumped 'em off by dozens;

Just how many bit the dust it's hard to tell.

Now, the one remaining Martin was a maiden,

And as pretty as a picture was this Grace,

While the one survivin' boy

Was the handsome Henry Coy -

And the folks all knew they'd soon meet face to f ace.

So at last they met upon a mountain pathway,

And Henry Coy he aimed his gun at Grace.

He was set to pull the trigger