John Miller walked alone
Through the winter cold
The blizzard came down hard and fast
Threatened to make this walk John’s last
.
Lantern light flickered
In a cottage window by the mountain road
John pounded in fright upon the little door
Old Major Lunceford harkened in fright or anger
Behind the rickety door
Pulled the trigger and the old twelve gauge
Exploded with a roar
.
Blew a hole into the door
Just over John Miller’s head
For a while there John didn’t know
If he was alive or if he was dead
But he knew for certain Old Major Lunceford
Was a mite teched in the head.