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T'was in the town of Griffin the year was Eighty three |
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It was there an old cow puncher stepped up and said to me |
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How do you do young fellow and how would you like to go |
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And spend a pleasant summer out in New Mexico |
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I'll furnish you good wages your transportation too |
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If you will but go with me one summer season through |
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But if you should get homesick and back to Griffin go |
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Then I'll furnish you no horses from the hills of Mexico |
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We left the town of Griffin in the merry month of May |
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When all the world was lovely and everything was gay |
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With saddles on our horses marching over we did go |
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Until we reached the logging out in New Mexico |
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It was there our pleasures ended and our troubles they began |
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The first hail storm fell on us those cattle how they ran |
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Through all the thorns and thistles us cowboys had to go |
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While the Indians watched upon us out in New Mexico |
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Well when the drive was over the riders would not pay |
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To all you happy people this much I have to say |
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Go back to your friends and loved ones tell others not to go |
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To the God forsaken country they call New Mexico |