| Well I grew up in the shadow of the Rockies in the grand old West yes sir I did
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| And dammed if we didn’t have us a bunch of fun back when we was kids
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| Yea there was manure on our britches snuff pouchin' out our lip
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| And hat’s so big you can almost tell who’s under it
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| Yea we all had horses it was always a race
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| It was real important who got there first
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| We sneak along some of the old man’s whisky just to quench our little thirst
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| Yeah we looked like a bunch of hon yaks but we could ride like Casy Tibbs
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| And we still had to learn how far we could go before we learned when to quit
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| Yea we scratched where it itches and clowned around
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| There wasn’t nobody who could kick our hound
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| Just throwin' knives and shootin' guns generally have in a bunch of fun
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| Well the mommas all thought we were angels and hell we let 'em go right ahead
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| But the old man had a hew more savvy in him
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| And a feller had to be careful around him
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| Yea wars were fought on contact and the wild seeds were sown
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| And we always spent our money like we found it in the road
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| Well one thing lead to another and before we knowned it it was gone
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| But I’ll give you a hundred dollars just to have some more of them goings on
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| Cause we looked like a bunch…
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| Yea it’s a lot of fun learning how far you can go
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| It’s kinda hard learning when to quit but I’ll bet you already know |