| Come all you old time cowboys
|
| And listen to my song
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| Please do not grow weary
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| I’ll not detain you long
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| Concerning some wild cowboys
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| Who did agree to go
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| And spend the summer pleasant
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| On the range of the buffalo
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| Well I found myself in griffin
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| In eighteen eighty three
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| When a man by the name of Crego
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| Came walking up to me
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| Copy paste is a sin, always on the run is better
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| He said, «How do you do, young fellow
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| And how’d you like to go
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| And spend the summer pleasant
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| On the range of the buffalo
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| Well of course I pay good wages
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| I pay transportation too
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| If you will agree to work for me
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| Until the season’s through
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| But if you do get homesick
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| And you try to run away
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| You’ll starve to death
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| Out on the trail and also lose your pay
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| All his flattering talking
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| We signed up quite a train
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| Of ten or twelve in number
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| Of able bodied men
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| And the trip it was a pleasant one
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| Through all New Mexico
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| Until we crossed Pease River
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| On the range of the Buffalo
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| It was there our pleasures ended
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| And our troubles all began
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| A lightening storm came on us
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| And made the cattle run
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| We got full of the stickers
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| On the cactus that did grow
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| And the outlaws came to pick us off
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| In the hills of Mexico
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| Yeah the hills of Mexico
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| Well, our working season ended
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| And the drover would not pay
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| He said you lost your money boy
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| You’re all in debt to me
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| But the cowboys never put much stock
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| On a thing like bankrupt law
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| So we left the bastard’s bones to bleach
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| On the range of the Buffalo |