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02/01/11 - NNHS Newsletter - Ghost Riders in the Sky

“If a man harbors any sort of fear, it percolates through all his thinking,
 damages his personality, makes him landlord to a ghost.”

Lloyd C. Douglas
(27 Aug 1877 - 13 Feb 1951)

Dear Friends and Schoolmates, 

   Today's Newsletter theme is brought to you by Gene Autry, who has been following me around all year: - RIDERS IN THE SKY - 1949 GENE AUTRY TRAILER

BONUS #1 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Blues Brothers

BONUS #2 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Johnny Cash

BONUS #3 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Dick Dale, 1963

BONUS #4 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Duane Eddy, 1996

BONUS #5 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Burl Ives

BONUS #6 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Frankie Laine

BONUS #7 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Neil LeVang on guitar (The Lawrence Welk Show, 1961)

BONUS #8 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Vaughn Monroe, 1965

BONUS #9 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Elvis Presley

BONUS #10 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - The Ramrods

BONUS #11 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Marty Robbins

BONUS #12 - - Ghost Riders in the Sky - Spiderbait with Nicholas Cage


"(Ghost) Riders in the Sky: A Cowboy Legend" is a country and cowboy-style song. It was written on June 5, 1948 by Stan Jones.[1] A number of versions were crossover hits on the pop charts in 1949. The ASCAP database lists the song as "Riders in the Sky" (title code: 480028324[2]), but the title has been written as "Ghost Riders", "Ghost Riders in the Sky", and "A Cowboy Legend".

The song tells a folk tale of a cowboy who has a vision of red-eyed, steel-hooved cattle thundering across the sky, being chased by the spirits of damned cowboys. One warns him that if he does not change his ways, he will be doomed to join them, forever "trying to catch the Devil's herd across these endless skies". Jones said that he had been told the story when he was 12 years old by an old cowboy friend.[3] The story resembles the northern European mythic Wild Hunt...


   Happy Birthday today to     Paul Dobie ('66) of CO!

   Happy Birthday tomorrow to Porter Phillips Booker ('57) AND the late    Thelma Spade Roberts ('57) (deceased - 08/26/05) AND   John Patterson ('59) of TN     Alan Nesbitt ('64) of NC!

   Happy Birthday this week to:

03 - Maynard Thweatt ('57);

04 -       John London (Warwick HS - '57) of VA AND the late   Ronnie Sanders ('65) (deceased - 10/08/06);

05 - The late   Dickie Krause ('57) (deceased - 12/27/99) AND    Charles Braslow ('65) of the Virgin Islands AND      Mark Hutcherson ('66) of VA;

06 -     Sue Miller Dearnley ('64) of VA AND    Steve Burns ('65) of MN;

08 - Bob Hines ('66) of VA!

   Many Happy Returns to You All! 


January 31, 1831 - William Lloyd Garrison began publication of The Liberator.

January 31, 1863 - Under cover of fog, Confederate ironclads Chicora and Palmetto State raided the federal blockade in Charleston. While some Union ships were damaged, the attack failed to disrupt the blockade.

January 31, 1865 - Robert E. Lee [CS] made General-in-Chief of the Confederate Army.

January 31, 1865 - The 13th Amendment was passed by the U. S. House:


February 01, 1833 - South Carolina's Ordinance of Nullification went into effect.

February 01, 1847 - Jones v. Van Zandt was argued before the Supreme Court.

February 01, 1861 - The Texas secessionist convention voted 166 to 7 to secede, calling for a ratification election by the people.

February 01, 1863 - Naval assault on Ft. McAllister, Georgia.

February 01, 1864 - The U. S. House passed legislation reinstituting the rank of Lieutenant General in the United States Army.

  From Bill Hobbs ('66) of Northern VA - 01/30/11 - "Nice Story":


When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.

"Information, please" I said into the Mouthpiece just above my head.

A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.


"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.

I said I could.

"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math.

She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."

Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."

"Information," said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?" I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.

Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.


I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any Idea how much you meant to me during that time?"

I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered, "Information."

I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" she said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, She said. "Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

Before I could hang up, she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne?"

"Yes." I answered.

"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you."

The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.

Whose life have you touched today?

Why not pass this on? I just did....

Lifting you on eagle's wings.
May you find the joy and peace you long for.

Life is a journey... NOT a guided tour.

     Thanks so much, Bill! It's a beautiful story - and you just touched my life as well as many others. I'm sure!

  From Jay Styles ('68) of VA - 01/30/11 - "Who was Kilroy - WWII?":

Who was Kilroy - WWII?

This is a great Paul Harvey-type story. We all remember 'Kilroy Was Here' when we were kids.

A great walk down Memory Lane for those who do or don't remember or a piece of history for those who never knew.

And it's rumored that even Stalin said, "Who the hell is Kilroy"!

Who was Kilroy? Seniors may remember that Kilroy was here.

Do you remember Kilroy? Or ever wonder who he was if you had heard of him? Great piece of history.

We didn't know why but we had lapel pins with his nose hanging over the label and the top of his face above his nose with his hands hanging over the label too. I believe it was orange colored. No one knew why he was so well known but we all joined in!

Kind of a war story... KILROY WAS HERE!


In 1946 the American Transit Association, through its radio program, "Speak to America," sponsored a nationwide contest to find the REAL Kilroy, offering a prize of a real trolley car to the person who could prove himself to be the genuine article.

Almost 40 men stepped forward to make that claim, but only James Kilroy from Halifax, Massachusetts, had evidence of his identity.

Kilroy was a 46-year old shipyard worker during the war who worked as a checker at the Fore River Shipyard in Quincy. His job was to go around and check on the number of rivets completed. Riveters were on piecework and got paid by the rivet.

Kilroy would count a block of rivets and put a check mark in semi-waxed lumber chalk, so the rivets wouldn't be counted twice. When Kilroy went off duty, the riveters would erase the mark.

Later on, an off-shift inspector would come through and count the rivets a second time, resulting in double pay for the riveters.

One day Kilroy's boss called him into his office. The foreman was upset about all the wages being paid to riveters, and asked him to investigate. It was then he realized what had been going on.

The tight spaces he had to crawl in to check the rivets didn't lend themselves to lugging around a paint can and brush, so Kilroy decided to stick with the waxy chalk. He continued to put his checkmark on each job he inspected, but added KILROY WAS HERE in king-sized letters next to the check, and eventually added the sketch of the chap with the long nose peering over the fence and that became part of the Kilroy message. Once he did that, the riveters stopped trying to wipe away his marks.

Ordinarily the rivets and chalk marks would have been covered up with paint. With war on, however, ships were leaving the Quincy Yard so fast that there wasn't time to paint them. As a result, Kilroy's inspection "trademark" was seen by thousands of servicemen who boarded the troopships the yard produced. His message apparently rang a bell with the servicemen, because they picked it up and spread it all over Europe and the South Pacific.

Before war's end, "Kilroy" had been here, there, and everywhere on the long hauls to Berlin and Tokyo

To the troops outbound in those ships, however, he was a complete mystery; all they knew for sure was that some jerk named Kilroy had "been there first." As a joke, U.S. servicemen began placing the graffiti wherever they landed, claiming it was already there when they arrived.

Kilroy became the U.S. super-GI who had always “already been" wherever GI's went. It became a challenge to place the logo in the most unlikely places imaginable (it is said to be atop Mt. Everest, the Statue of Liberty, the underside of l'Arc De Triomphe and even scrawled in the dust on the moon.)

As the war went on, the legend grew. Underwater demolition teams routinely sneaked ashore on Japanese-held islands in the Pacific to map the terrain for coming invasions by U.S. troops (and thus, presumably, were the first GI's there). On one occasion, however, they reported seeing enemy troops painting over the Kilroy logo! In 1945, an outhouse was built for the exclusive use of Roosevelt, Stalin, and Churchill at the Potsdam conference. Its first occupant was Stalin, who emerged and asked his aide (in Russian), "Who is Kilroy?"

To help prove his authenticity in 1946, James Kilroy brought along officials from the shipyard and some of the riveters. He won the trolley car, which he gave to his nine children as a Christmas gift and set it up as a playhouse in the Kilroy front yard in Halifax, Massachusetts.

So, now you know the rest of the story!

   Thanks, Jay Sweetie! This is one of those stories which may or may not be true, but you're right - it's a great story! - Unproven!

      From Wayne Stokes ('65) of VA - 01/30/11 - "It's winter in Maine.":

From a friend of ours (sort of an "in-law", kinda) anyway, she lives in Conn. (works at Hartford University/College, for what that's worth?) and her friend sent this from Maine! This is what I see when I think of Maine in the Winter--no, not the snow "art", the Winter!!

It's winter in Maine
And the gentle breezes blow, 
40 miles per hour at 32 below! 
Oh, how I love Maine
When the snow's up to your butt; 
You take a breath of winter air,
And your nose is frozen shut. 
Yes, the weather here is wonderful, 
You may think I'm a fool. 
I could never leave Maine,
Cause I'm frozen to the stool.

     Thanks, Wayne Honey!

From - 01/31/11 - "Grief":

What Do I Say in a Time of Grief?

By Amy Long

In evaluating the needs of the mourning individual, it is helpful to fully grasp the conditions around the death.  You will find unbelievable contrasts in the mourning process that depend upon the age of the loved one who died, how the death happened, plus the gender of the one who survived makes a big difference.

Please use the following as guidelines and suggestions. Each situation will present itself with unique chances for you to expand on your experience.

Avoid Clichés
"She is out of pain now," "It must have been her time," and "Things always work out for the best," are sayings which are aren't helpful. It's a lot more essential that the bereaved feel your quiet presence than to hear anything you feel the need to say. Keep in mind, you can find no pre-planned phrases which will remove the hurt from the loss.

Words To Avoid At All Costs:

"It was The Creator's will." (Initially, ask someone else what the survivor's religious belief was.)

"Time heals all wounds." (Time by itself does not make everything better, though it can help. Individuals do need time, but in addition to that they need to work through the stages of grief.)

"Be appreciative you have another child." (This lessens the value of the child who died.)

"I can completely understand how you feel." (Nobody can know precisely how someone else feels.)

"There must have been a reason." (Maybe not, or at least not a reason that will ever be known or be understood by the bereaved left behind.

Phrases That Do Help:

"This has to be heart-renderingly horrible for you." (Then the griever feels free to express the emotional discomfort he or she is feeling.)

"It has got to be difficult to accept." (Listen to the what's making it difficult.)

"You must have been very close to him." (The survivor can then share stories from their relationship.)

"We have no idea how you are feeling; I've never had a (spouse/child or parent) die. Will you tell me what you're feeling?" (Then listen.)

"I really miss (name of deceased). He was a unique man. But that can't begin to compare to how much you must be missing him. Share with me what it's like." (Then listen.)

When You Are Helping Someone Deal With Their Grief, Don't Think That You Are Expected To Have "Something to Say."
Your presence is sufficient. Especially with new grief, your embrace, your touch and your sincere compassion are all that the griever may need. Make it a point to call or visit the survivor, regardless of how much time has passed after the death. The griever still appreciates knowing you care.

Take the First Step
Don't merely say, "If there's anything you need, you can always ask." Make suggestions and specific things you can do. For instance, you might say, "I would like to mow your yard next Saturday afternoon. Would that be okay with you?" or "May I go grocery shopping with you your first time out?" Each compassionate gesture reminds the bereaved he or she is not alone and keeps him/her from having to frequently reach out for help. It also lets your friend know you believe he or she is important. 

Help Out With Every Day Concerns
You might run errands, answer the phone, prepare meals or take care of the laundry. These normally small tasks seem insurmountable towards the grieving person, for grief noticeably diminishes physical vitality. An offer to commit an evening just watching tv together is usually very restoring, especially to someone now having to live alone.

Offer Assistance with the Children
Kids really should not be shielded from grief, but on occasion they need a break from the sorrow at home, while their surviving parent might welcome an evening for grieving alone. Express your caring and support as well as give them an opening to explore their thoughts as well as their emotions. Don't assume that a child who gives the appearance of calmness is free of pain.

Be a Good Listener
A grieving individual desperately desires a listener. The need to "tell the story" decreases as the healing process progresses. With each time the story was told, the finality of death becomes more real little more. When feelings of anger, frustration, disappointment, anxiety as well as sorrow are let out, accept those emotions. If the survivor keeps them bottled inside, they will bring to a screaming halt the healing process.

Make it Possible for the Expression of Guilt Emotions
A healthy response to hearing someone express grief is often to reply by saying, "It's not your fault. There was nothing you could've done." Don't try to save individuals from their guilt emotions, because they are common and not unusual during the grief process.

Enable the Survivor to Grieve In His/Her Unique Way
Avoid pushing the mourner to "get over" the loss. If he needs to go jogging or lift weights to let go of pent up energy and anxiety, enable him. If he wants to look photos, let him. We all release our sorrow in our unique way; keep away from being judgmental.

Allow For Mood Swings
Expect good days along with not so good days for quite awhile. These highs and lows are a part of the process. These emotions have been compared to waves that wash in uncontrollably. Progressively the very good days grow to be far more often, but bad ones will occur even a year or more after the death of your loved one.

Remember That Recovery Takes Time
Don't assume the mourning person to have gotten "over it" within several weeks. Vast waves of emotion might pour through for numerous months and then, slowly, step by step, the intensity subsides. It does not happen immediately after the memorial service or even 2 months after it, as many individuals imagine. It's often the case that the genuine grieving is just starting by then. It may well be far more than a year before you see the benefits of your caring as well as support -- but when you see your friend smile again, the reward is there.

If it seems that the mourner does not appear to be moving forward at all, despite everything you've done and the passage of time, throw out the idea of professional guidance to assist with learning new ways of dealing with the loss.
Share Your Memories
During the initial few months after someone dies, there's a tendency to focus on those left behind, while the survivors themselves are concentrating on the person who died. By sharing your stories of your experiences with the deceased, you're giving a special gift to the mourning person. Your caring and your concern are shown not only by what you share, but in the fact that you just took the time for you to do so.

Give the Survivor All the Time He or She Needs
Bear in mind that a heart-broken person will be under heavy amounts of stress; don't press him to join in external pursuits until finally he's ready.

Trust him/her to know what is best.

About the Author:

Amy is the President of the ULC Seminary and author of multiple books and courses on ceremonies and various spiritual belief systems, including 'Weddings, Funerals and Rites of Passage', as well as its sequel, 'More Weddings, Funerals and Rites of Passage', among others: 


From Will and Guy's Joke of the Day - 01/31/11:

* 6  Lawn Mower Jokes

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.

Why are husbands like lawn mowers?
They are difficult to get started, and then they don't work half the time.

There's one good thing about snow, it makes your lawn look as nice as your neighbour's. Clyde Moore

Will - Why do you water your lawn with whisky?
Guy - So that it comes up half-cut.

My neighbour Bill asked if he could use my lawnmower. I told him of course he could, so long as he didn't take it out of my garden.

What do you call someone who used to like tractors? An extractor fan.

What do you call a cow who works for a gardener? A lawn moo-er.


* Lawn Discussion


I am the only person in my road that has an old fashioned push mower. I never weed my lawn as I love the plant diversity; yellow buttercups in April, clover in June and July. Everyone else in my street has a motor mower, some even have sit-on mowers even though they can barely turn them around as their gardens are so small. Now you know why I empathise with this discussion kindly sent in by John Franklin.

* God and St. Francis Discussing Lawns

GOD: St. Francis, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there in the USA? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honeybees and flocks of songbirds.

I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles.

ST. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers weeds and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD: Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It's temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it, sometimes twice a week.

GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS: No, sir -- just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS: Yes, sir.

GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stoke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of life.

ST. FRANCIS: You'd better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD: And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE: Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It's a real stupid movie about ...

GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.

1. Thursday, February 3, 2011 - The NNHS Class of 1955 holds Lunch Bunch gatherings on the first Thursday of every month at Steve & John's Steak House on Jefferson Avenue just above Denbigh Boulevard in Newport News at 11:00 AM. The luncheon is not limited to just the Class of '55; if you have fiends in that year, go visit with them.

2. Wednesday, February 9, 2011 - The NNHS Class of June 1942 meets at noon on the second Wednesday of every other month for a Dutch treat lunch at the James River Country Club, 1500 Country Club Road. PLEASE JOIN THEM. Give or take a few years makes no difference. Good conversation, food and atmosphere. For details, call Jennings Bryan at 803-7701 for reservations.

3. Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - The NNHS Class of June 1942 meets at noon on the second Wednesday of every other month for a Dutch treat lunch at the James River Country Club, 1500 Country Club Road. PLEASE JOIN THEM. Give or take a few years makes no difference. Good conversation, food and atmosphere. For details, call Jennings Bryan at 803-7701 for reservations.

Saturday, April 30, 2011 - The NNHS Class will have a Luncheon. Team Leaders are Mickey Marcella ( - 757-249-3800), Betty Hamby Neher ( - 757-898-5099), and Dr. Harry Simpson ( - 804-694-0346). - CLASS OF 1954

5. Saturday, July 9, 2011 (6:30 PM to 11:30 PM) - The Class of 1971 will hold its 40-Year Reunion at Newport News Marriott at City Center, 740 Town Center Drive, Newport News. For details, contact Richard Rawls at - CLASS OF 1971

PRAYER ROLL : - updated 12/30/10

BLOG: - updated 10/21/10

  Y'all take good care of each other!  TYPHOONS FOREVER!  We'll Always Have Buckroe!

                           Love to all, Carol





Carol Buckley Harty

   To donate, click on the Donate Button on the left, or just mail it directly to my home (address available upon request). Thanks!

(Ghost) Riders in the Sky

Written by Stan Jones (05 June 1914 - 13 Dec 1963), 1948

An old cowboy went riding out one dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way
When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows he saw
A-plowing through the ragged sky and up the cloudy draw

Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky
For he saw the Riders coming hard and he heard their mournful cry

Yippie yi Ohhhhh
Yippie yi yaaaaay
Ghost Riders in the sky

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, their shirts all soaked with sweat
He's riding hard to catch that herd, but he ain't caught 'em yet
'Cause they've got to ride forever on that range up in the sky
On horses snorting fire
As they ride on hear their cry

As the riders loped on by him he heard one call his name
If you want to save your soul from Hell a-riding on our range
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride
Trying to catch the Devil's herd, across these endless skies

Yippie yi Ohhhhh
Yippie yi Yaaaaay

Ghost Riders in the sky
Ghost Riders in the sky
Ghost Riders in the sky

"Ghost Riders in the Sky" midi (version #1) courtesy of - 02/01/11

"Ghost Riders in the Sky" lyrics courtesy
of - 02/01/11

"Ghost Rider in the Sky" Image courtesy of - 02/01/11

Galloping Divider Animated clip art courtesy of - 02/01/11

Divider line 500 clip art courtesy of - 02/01/11

Animated Tiny Birthday Cake clip art courtesy of Sarah Puckett Kressaty ('65) of VA - 08/31/05
Thanks, Sarah Sugah!

Army Seal clip art courtesy of Al Farber ('64) of GA - 05/24/06 (still missing...)
Thanks, Al!
Replaced by Norm Covert ('61) of MD - 02/09/09
Thanks, Norm!

Air Force Seal clip art courtesy of - 07/07/06

Animated Navy Flag clip art courtesy of - 06/18/03

Navy Seal clip art courtesy of - 05/29/06

Animated BOO-HOO courtesy of Glenn Dye ('60) of TX - 08/28/09
Thanks, Glenn!

Animated Dancing Snoopy courtesy of Billy Turner ('65) of TX - 11/26/08
Thanks, Billy Turner!

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