| Ever since Miss Susan Johnson lost her Jockey, Lee
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| There has been much excitement, more to be
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| You can hear her moaning night and dawn
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| «Wonder where my Easy Rider’s gone?»
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| Cablegrams come of sympathy
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| Telegrams go of inquiry
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| Letters come from down in «Bam»
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| And everywhere that Uncle Sam
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| Has even a rural delivery
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| All day the phone rings
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| But it’s not for me
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| At last good tidings fill our hearts with glee
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| This message comes from Tennessee
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| Dear Sue, your Easy Rider struck this burg today
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| On a southbound rattler side door Pullman car
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| I seen him here and he was on the hog
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| (Spoken) 'The smoke was broke, no joke, not a jitney on him'
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| I say now, Easy Rider’s gotta stay away
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| So he had to vamp it but the hike ain’t far
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| He’s gone where the Southern cross' the Yellow Dog
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| I know the Yellow Dog district like a book
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| Indeed, I know the route that Rider took;
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| Every cross', tie, bayou, burg, and bog
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| Way down where the Southern cross' the Dog
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| Money don’t exactly grow on trees
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| On cotton stalks, it grows with ease
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| No race hog, race track, no grandstand
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| Is like Old Beck an' Buckshot land
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| Down where the Southern cross' the Dog
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| Every kitchen there is a cabaret
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| Down there the boll weevil works while the (darkies) play
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| This Yellow Dog Blues the live long day
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| Dear Sue, your Easy Rider struck this burg today
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| On a southbound rattler side door Pullman car
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| Seen him here an' he was on the hog
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| (Spoken) 'The smoke was broke, no joke, not a jitney on him'
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| Easy Rider’s gotta stay away
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| So he had to vamp it but the hike ain’t far
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| He’s gone where the Southern cross' the Yellow Dog
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| He’s gone where the Southern cross' the Yellow Dog |