Текст песни Michael Martin Murphey — Corn, Water And Wood

I was down in the arroyo gatherin’ strays
You know cowboys and cattle don’t get holidays
And I should've been finished except for one little guy
Who kept leading me farther away

He ran up on the mesa, across a ravine
Past the Indian ruins and the muddy red stream
And I stopped for a spell, ‘cause I was bone tired
And I guess that I started to dream

I saw three painted horses, three dark skinned men
A mask made of clay and voices like wind

Singing we seek the soul, of all that is good
We come bearing corn, water and wood
Stop and behold, all that is good
Give thanks for the corn, water and wood

Now I’m an old trail hound and I’ve always believed
That your boots and your saddle are all that you need
No miracles happen, no angels appear
But I swear three men were standing there

I shook myself over, had I been asleep
That’s just three pueblo children, tending their sheep
And they yelled "Merry Christmas", as they brought me my stray
And their voices rang through the mesquite