| Kitty Malone sat on a mule
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| Was riding in style
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| When suddenly, like the sound of a buzzard’s breaking
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| Kitty felt laser beams being fired at her head
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| She said, «I hate laser beams
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| And you never done see me askin'
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| For a UFO
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| In Tomahawk County»
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| Well she kicked the mule
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| And it walked the path
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| And the aliens fired from behind
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| Till she stopped the mule
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| And she kicked the rump
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| And the big old mule took a big old dump
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| Scent of a mule, you better watch out where you go
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| Take your laser beams away
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| Scent of a mule, you better watch out where you go
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| You better stop that laser game
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| Or you’ll smell my mule
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| She felt the fire against her neck
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| And it saddened her to feel it burn
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| When suddenly, like the sound of a breeding Holstein
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| Kitty said, «Stop, we ain’t lookin' for fightin'
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| In Tomahawk County.»
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| A little guy from the UFO
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| Came on out and said his name was Joe
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| She said, «Come on over for some lemonade
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| Just follow me now with the whole brigade»
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| Scent of a mule…
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| They walked into her cabin shack
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| They had never seen a southern home
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| And they liked it, better than their UFO
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| They liked it, they really liked it
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| They said, «Here's a place of elegance
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| Here we shower ourselves in lightness» |