Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 Read Free

“Now for a stranger in our midst, who says his name's
John. I want him to play the song he made up about himself.”
                 I
went up there with my guitar. Right off, folks began to holler things:
                 “I
vow , that's no stranger whatever!”
                 "That's
John—how you come on, John?"
                 And
yells and handclappings before I even started in. It
was good to know I had friends or, anyway, well-wishers out there.
                 As
I'd been bid, I sang the song Altic had mentioned, and they purely tore up the
logs with their hollering and whooping. Altic came close to
me with his grin. “Listen, John," he said, “might you know a scary
song—a ghost song? I particularly like that sort."
                 “I’ll
try one," I said to him, and when the racket died down he stuck the mike
in my face.
                 “Friends,"
I said, “let me try a song they call ‘Murder Bull.’ I learnt it from a Texas man, who said the thing truly happened in
his part of the world."
                 I
struck a chord, then another chord, to make sure I was sure of the tune, and
started out:
     
                 "When
the night is dark and stormy
                And the ghost wind moans and
chills,
                They tell about the Murder Bull
                That roams the Texas hills.
     
                 “It
was at that big roundup
                In eighteen eighty-four,
                Two riders claimed a stray bull calf
                On the old Red River shore.
     
                 "He
wasn't much to fight for,
                But Jillson's hate was black;
                He fired a shot through Graham's
chest
                And it came out the back.
     
                 "Graham
drew his bowie knife
                And struck in Jillson's side,
                And both fell down, and no one knew
                Which was the
first that died. "
     
                 "Ohh,”
I heard a pretty-dressed lady say from the front log as I went on:
     
                 "The
others at the roundup,
                They gathered round and said,
                "There's none of us will claim
that calf,
                Now both of them are dead.”
     
                 "A
running iron they heated,
                The calf they roped and tied,
                And in big, burning letters
                Spelled MURDER on
his hide.”
     
                 I
heard the whole listening bunch draw in their breath.
     
                 “They
drove him out to roam the hills,
                And when his time was full,
                He grew up big and terrible,
                The maverick
Murder Bull.
     
                "And many a year's been born
and died,
                But still he prowls at night
                With MURDER branded on his flank
                In letters red and bright.
     
                 "If
you live in East
Texas ,
                Be always on your guard,
                Because some night the bull may
come,
                Walk right into your yard.
     
                 "While
you sit in there, watching
                The fire that dulls and dies,
                He’ll come up to your window
                With MURDER in
his eyes.
     
                 "Then
turn and look the other way
                And hold your frightened breath,
                For if you face the Murder Bull
                His eyes will give you death.”
     
                 I
finished and laid my palm on the guitar strings to make them quiet. Then