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By townes van zandt |
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The name she gave was caroline |
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Daughter of a miner |
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Her ways were free |
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It seemed to me |
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That sunshine walked beside her |
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She came from spencer |
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Across the hill |
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She said her pa had sent her |
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'cause the coal was low |
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And soon the snow |
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Would turn the skies to winter |
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She said she'd come |
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To look for work |
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She was not seeking favors |
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And for a dime a day |
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And a place to stay |
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She'd turn those hands to labor |
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But the times were hard, lord, |
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The jobs were few |
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All through tecumseh valley |
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But she asked around |
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And a job she found |
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Tending bar at gypsy sally's |
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She saved enough to get back home |
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When spring replaced the winter |
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But her dreams were denied |
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Her pa had died |
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The word come down from spencer |
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So she turned to whorin' out on the streets |
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With all the lust inside her |
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And it was many a man |
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Returned again |
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To lay himself beside her |
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They found her down beneath the stairs |
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That led to gypsy sally's |
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In her hand when she died |
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Was a note that cried |
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Fare thee well... tecumseh valley |
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The name she gave was caroline |
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Daughter of a miner |
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Her ways were free |
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It seemed to me |
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That sunshine walked beside her |