| Wild and wooly, honest but crude
|
| Their mouths were nasty from the baccy they chewed
|
| They didn’t seem friendly, didn’t seem mean
|
| Come to think of it they’s hardly ever seen
|
| Except on the wild end of wonder
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| And mother nature’s fountain
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| They rode up on the thunder
|
| These wild men from the mountains
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| These wild men from the mountains
|
| They were old and they were young
|
| They sometimes spoke in unknown tongues
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| They had long hair, unshaven faces
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| And whiskeyfied swear to set your soul a blazes
|
| On the wild end of wonder
|
| And mother nature’s fountain
|
| They rode up on the thunder
|
| These wild men from the mountains
|
| These wild men from the mountains
|
| Legend says that the law’ll have 'em killed
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| For makin' whiskey in their own stills
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| It’s also said when it gets real quiet
|
| You can hear 'em ride all through the night
|
| On the wild end of wonder
|
| And mother nature’s fountain
|
| They rode up on the thunder
|
| These wild men from the mountains
|
| These wild men from the mountains |