OLD SHEP   Clyde "Red" Foley Arranged and TablEdited by Larry Kuhns
lakuhns@sprintmail.com
April 2000                                                                                                 9               P                            @  @ +  K  K          A  I  I     @f0 f0  	i0 `	i0 	i0  
I0
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  g   gI  @hf0 hf0 hf  @if  if0 if   ji0 jf0 jf   ki0kf kf  l   mI   mI  @m  mF   nf  @ni0 ni0 of  @oi0 o 0ol0`pi0 pi0pi0  qf  qi0 r  @r r @sf0 sf0  t&  @tf0 tf0  ui0 `ui0 ui0 ui0  vI0vI0@x   y  @y  pyL  y  @z   `zl zI  zI   {i0 P{l {i  {i   |F0 @|F  |I0 |I0 |I0 |I0  ~  `~)  ~  ~   I   )  @  I  I  @f  f0 f  @f  f0 f   F  F5 F  A  I  I   a. @f0 f0  i0 `i0 i0  I0I0    C     C    I    I  @f0 f   i0 `i0 i0  I0I0    A   f  @f0 I  I     @f0  0l0 0  i0 `i0 l0 I0I0 C  	  I    I   f  @f0    i0  f @f0 i0  i0 i0  I0`I0 I0I0      	   #     I    )  @f0 i0  i0 i0  I0`I0 > အi0$i0    @  @f0 f0 @f0    l0  i0 l0  f0 `i0 f0 i0          	 i  @f0 f0 @f0 f0  i0 `i0 i0  i0i0    	 I    I   #     @f0 i0  i0 `i0 i0  I0I0I0  C   c  	 I    I   c    @f0 f0     i0 `i0 i0  i0i0    #  	  I    I  @i0    f0  i0 `i0 i0  I0I0    #  F  F  @i0  i0 `i0 i0 i0  ăI0ăI0łi0 F  @#  	  	  
  ǽ   I  @f0 f0 f  @f  f0 f   i0 f0 f   ˁi0f f     C  D  I   f0 @i0 ΂i0 f0 @i0 ρi0 i0 `i0 Ѓi0 сi0сi0i0        @f0 f0  i0 `i0 i0 i0  ցI0ցI0׾ 0   F   F  @c  i0  f  @c  i0  i0 @0 i0  ݁i0`i0 ݁i0i0  #    )    )     @f0 i0  i0 i0  I0`I0 I0i0  !     I  I  @f0 @f0 i0  i0  0i0  i0`i0 i0i0    I     #  I  )  @f0 f0 @f0 f0  i0 i0  i0`i0 i0      pL0 I  I  `l0f   i0 Pl0 I0@I0I0 I0 0     F  @F  &  I  I   f  @f  f0  f  @f  l0  i0 @0 `i0 g0  i0i0    #  &  @f0 f   i0 i0       I0` I0  i0  i0 i0    @   f0 @f0 f0  f> @f0 l0  i0 l0 i0  i0`i0 i0    	  	I  	I  @
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i  @f0 f0  i0 i0  i0`i0 i0    `)    &   $  @   i0 @f0 i0  i0 i0 i0  I0I0 F   f  @C  F   f @i0 i0 @i0 l0     i0 i0 i0  i0`i0 i0    c    I    I   f  @f0 i0  i0 `i0 i0  I0i0i0      !A  !F   "f @"f0 "F   #i0 `#i0 #i0  $I0%i0%f   &F  @&#  &	  '	  '
  '   'I  @(f0 (f0 (f  @)f  )f0 )f   *i0 *f0 *f   +i0+f +f  ,   -C  -D  -I   .f  @.f0 .i0 /f  @/f0 /i0 0i0 `0i0 0i0 1i01i01i0  2  @2 2 @30 3i0 4&  @4f0 4l0 5i0 5l05i0  6I0`6I0 6F0  8   9 @90 9 9F  @:f0  ;i0 ;i0 <I0`<I0 =i0=f   >F  @>#  >	  ?	  ?
  ?   ?I  @@f0 @f0 @f  @Af  Af0 Af   Bi0 Bf0 Bf   Ci0Cf Cf  D  @DH  DD  D@   EC  ED  EI   Ff  @Ff0 Fi0 Gf  @Gf0 Gi0 HL   Hi0 `Hi0 Hi0 Ii0Ii0Ii0  J  `JP  Ji   K2  Ki  Ki  Ki  Ki   Ld  `Li  Li  Li  Li   Md  `Mi   N@> O<  O(   P`   PP   Q`   R`   S`   T@  U  9 See Notes Section
for lyrics 
 %tempo=80  Intro  Verse  A  =d >_   E 7 p=?p9O   A 	   
            E 7 (6)        F# 7 :O*o  B 7 /d=d    E 7      A     E 7 I I  @A dXo Yo L/l /l   E (o	/O0	/dF# dim7  <d A / C# =?9OD 4d-o=d A 6 /O2O A 6 3O`;d`3C# m6 I  @d0F 7 0 A&0 A&0 A L  y  `zl F# m dx 1o ; A 9 l dXo Yo L/lA 6   7  0   7 In August 1936, an ill sheepherder was hospitalized in Fort Benton, Montana.  His faithful working companion, a Border Collie, waited patiently outside the hospital for his friend's recovery ... but it was not to be. 

Subsequently, the shepherd's relatives decided to have his body be sent back east for his burial.  In the lonely procession that followed from the hospital to the train depot, the identity and relationship of the whining dog that accompanied the casket was lost.

The dog was prevented from boarding the train, and soon thereafter came to be known as "Old Shep."   The dog patiently and methodically held a vigil to insure reunion with his beloved friend.  For five-and-one-half years, "Old Shep" met each passenger train as it chugged into the station and unboarded its passengers, anticipating his partner's return.

Old Shep's story exemplifies the devotion and faithfulness of dogs everywhere.  Shep's story was carried in newspapers throughout the country and overseas.  It appeared in the "London Daily Express," "The New York Times" and in "Ripley's Believe It Or Not."  Occurring in the shadow of the Great Depression and the advent of World War II, this story took on an added significance for those who mourned the departure of loved ones and hoped for their safe return.

Old Shep became and still remains a patron saint of loyalty, patience and friendship.  On January 12, 1942, Shep "rejoined his best friend."   Shep was so famous that at the time of his death, the wire services of "Associated Press" and "United Press International" carried his obituary along with the war news. Shep's funeral was two days later.   He was laid to rest on the bluff overlooking the train station.


"If There Ain't No Dogs In Heaven ... It Ain't Heaven!" -- Dennis the Meanace


Old Shep  -- By:Clyde "Red" Foley

When I was a lad
And Old Shep was a pup ...
Over hills and meadows we'd stray.
Just a boy and his dog,
We were both full of fun.
We grew up together that way. 

I remember the time 
at the old swimmin' hole,
When I would have drowned
beyond doubt.
Shep was right there
To the rescue he came
He jumped in
and then pulled me out. 

As the years fast did roll,
Old Shep he grew old.
His eyes were fast growing dim.
And one day the doctor
looked at me and said,
"I can do no more for him, Jim." 

With hands that were trembling,
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head.
I just couldn't do it,
I wanted to run.
I wish
they would shoot me instead. 

He came to my side,
And looked up at me.
And laid his old head on my knee
I stroked the best friend
That a man ever had,
I cried so I scarcely could see. 

Old Shep 
he knew he was going to go,
For he reached out 
and licked at my hand.
He looked up at me 
just as much as to say,
We're parting, 
but you understand. 

Old Shep he has gone
Where the good doggies go,
And no more with Old Shep will I roam.
But if dogs have a heaven,
There's one thing I know ...
Old Shep has a wonderful home.
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