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I ride an old |
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Paint, I'm leadin' old |
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Dan I'm goin' to |
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Montana just to throw the houlihan, |
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They feed in the coulees, they water in the draw |
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Their tails are all matted, their backs are all raw. cho: |
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Ride around, little dogies, ride around them slow, |
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For they're fiery and snuffy and rarin' to go. |
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Old Bill Jones had two daughters and a song, |
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One went to |
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Denver, the other went wrong. |
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His wife, she died in a poolroom fight |
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But still he keeps singing from morning to night: cho: |
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When I die, take my saddle from the wall |
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And put it on my pony, and lead him from his stall; |
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Tie my bones to his back, turn our faces to the west |
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And we'll ride the prairies that we love the best. cho: |