On the dark roads of Montana, there's a shadow in the dirt
The whisper of a mountaineer in a ragged flannel shirt

He walks the stony hillsides with his mandolin in hand
But you'll never see his face around this land

    Cuz he hides beneath the veil of the night
    And the forest keeps him sheltered from the light
    And the echoes of the canyons keep his memory in flight

They say he left his cabin in the fall of '63
But he left a fire buring by the dried-out cedar tree

The flames they caught the branches, and it soon engulfed his home
The smell of smoke awoke the town downwind from Calderon

    The searchlights carved the hillsides and the dogs were on the chase
    The rangers from Missoula searched in every open space
    For three days they were waiting but they never found a trace

They never found a body, but he haunts us just the same
He's watching as you dance behind the flame

The sad songs that he's playing on a dusty mandolin
Suspended like a feather in the gentle canyon wind