| Well Lord I love this ranchin' with it’s ropin' and brandin'
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| But I don’t like that farmin' at all
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| It’s goodby for the summer this haying’s sure a bummer
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| And I’ll be back to help you gather in the fall
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| Well I don’t mind riding fences but them tractors are wrenches
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| I ain’t never liked and I guess I never will
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| Just give me my horse and saddle or some woolies or some cattle
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| And turn me loose and let me ride out through the hills
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| Cause I’m just a cowboy a dirt and sweat cowboy
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| Livin' on beef steak and beans
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| I ain’t to hard to please but Mister you better believe
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| I ain’t never had no use for farm machines
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| Well there ain’t much romancing in old fashioned branding
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| But Lorrie it suits me just fine
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| Oh the dust and the smoke’s enough to make a feller choke
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| But have you ever had to ride one of them old combines
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| Now my grandpa was a farmer a Michigan black land farmer
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| And he worked with them machines the whole day through
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| But I bet if he did some roaming through the hills of old Wyoming
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| He’d probably feel about the same way that I do
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| I reckon it’s just bad fate I was born a hundred years too kate
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| And they say boy if you want to survive you’d better change
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| But as long as sagebrush grows and that old Powder River flows
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| I’ll be a cowboy till my dyin' day
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| I’m just a cowboy…
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| Well I think I just heard a discouraging word
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| About them rattleing banging smoking farm machines |