Lyrics: The Haunting of Lot 13
By Debbie “Hayride” Harper & The Prairie Songbirds
(Verse 1)
In the dusty old auction barn, every fall they say,
There’s a lot no one touches, folks keep far away,
It’s the cursed Lot 13, with a shadow that lingers,
Where the ghost of a rancher still curls his fingers.
(Chorus)
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where the past and present meet unseen,
No bids, no calls, no hammer falls,
The ghostly rancher claims them all.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where whispers echo in between,
The cattle low, but they don’t mean harm.
For the spirit won’t let them leave the barn.
(Verse 2)
He was a man of the land, with a herd so fine,
But he lost it all in a cruel twist of time,
Now every year when the harvest moon’s bright,
He returns to the auction barn a night.
(Chorus)
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where the past and present meet unseen,
No bids, no calls, no hammer falls,
The ghostly rancher claims them all.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where whispers echo in between,
The cattle low, but they don’t mean harm.
For the spirit won’t let them leave the barn.
(Bridge)
The auctioneer trembles as he reads the list,
When Lot 13’s mentioned, there’s a cold, cold mist,
The bidders all shiver, they’ve heard the tale,
Of the rancher’s curse that never fails.
(Verse 3)
But if you’re brave and your heart’s made of steel,
You can try your luck on this ghostly deal,
The cattle low, but they don’t mean harm.
For the spirit won’t let them leave the barn.
(Chorus)
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where the past and present meet unseen,
No bids, no calls, no hammer falls,
The ghostly rancher claims them all.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where whispers echo in between,
The cattle low, but they don’t mean harm.
For the spirit won’t let them leave the barn.
(Outro)
So the next time you’re at the auction’s grand scene,
Remember the tale of cursed Lot 13,
And when the bidding starts and the crowd leans in,
Say a prayer for the soul of the rancher within.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13…
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13…
COWBOY POETRY
“Beware of Lot 13”
By Alan Nafzger (Halloween 1991 Dublin Ireland)
In the old auction barn, when the moon’s full and bright,
There’s a tale whispered low ‘bout a ghost in the night.
Lot 13, they say, is a place to avoid,
Where the past and the present are forever destroyed.
The cattle stand quiet, their eyes full of fear,
For the spirit that lingers still draws near.
The rancher who lost it all in his prime,
Now haunts the barn, caught in the bind of time.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where the shadows move, and nothing’s seen.
No bids, no calls, no hammer falls,
The ghostly rancher claims them all.
The auctioneer trembles when he speaks that lot’s name,
For every year, it’s just the same.
The mist rolls in, cold as death,
And you can hear the rancher’s whispered breath.
His herd was fine, his land was wide,
But fate was cruel, and he never survived.
Now he watches, a silent judge,
Where no man dares to speak or budge.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where the past and present meet unseen.
No bids, no calls, no hammer falls,
The ghostly rancher claims them all.
The barn door creaks, and the wind does moan,
But inside, it feels like you’re all alone.
The cattle are cursed, their eyes glow bright,
Caught in the spell of eternal night.
The bidders, they shiver, too scared to move,
They’ve heard the tale, they know the groove.
No one walks away with what they seek,
For Lot 13 holds the cursed and weak.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13,
Where the whispers echo in between.
The cattle low, but don’t mean harm,
For the spirit won’t let them leave the barn.
So if you’ve got steel in your soul and guts in your veins,
You might test your luck on the haunted plains.
But remember this, as you step into the scene,
Beware, my friend, beware of Lot 13.
Oh, beware, beware of Lot 13…
Where the past and present meet unseen.
