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Me and the boy's we cinched up our saddles |
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And rode to Sonora last night |
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Gun's hanging proud, daring out loud |
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For anyone looking to fight |
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Card cheats and rustlers would run for their holes |
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When the boys from the old broken O |
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Rode up and reined on the street that they named |
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Sonora's death row |
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Mescal is free at Amanda's saloon |
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For the boy's from the old broken O |
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Saturday nights in the town of Sonora |
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Are the best in all Mexico |
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They've got guitars and trumpets and sweet senoritas |
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Who won't want to let you go |
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You'd never believe such a gay happy time |
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On the street called Sonora's death row |
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Inside Amanda's we was a dancin' |
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With all of Amanda's gals |
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I won some silver at seven card stud |
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So I was out doin' my pals |
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But the whiskey and mescal, peso cigars |
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Drove me outside for some air |
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Somebody whispered, "Your life or your money |
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I reached, but my gun wasn't there" |
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I woke up face down in Amanda's back alley |
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Aware of the fool I had been |
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Rushed to my pony, grabbed my Winchester |
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And entered Amanda's again |
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Where I saw my partners twirling my pistols |
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And throwing my money around |
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Blinded by anger, I jacked the lever |
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And one of them fell to the ground |
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Amanda's got silent like night in the desert |
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My friends stared in pure disbelief |
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Amanda was kneeling beside the dead cowboy |
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Plainly expressing her grief |
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And as I bowed my head a trembled shot through me |
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My six-gun was still at my side |
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I felt my pockets, there was my money |
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I fell to my knees and I cried |
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A nightmare of mescal is all that it was |
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For no one had robbed me at all |
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I wish I was dreaming the sound of the gallows |
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They're testing just outside the wall |
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And the mescal's still free at Amanda's saloon |
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For the boy's from the old broken O |
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I'd give a ransom to drink there today |
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Be free of Sonora's death row |
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Yes I'd give a ransom to drink there today |
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Be free of Sonora's death row |