| East of beautiful Alberta
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| North of old Montan'
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| The livings fine, when the springtime’s kind
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| To a bovine raising man
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| Where they sort 'em, and stretch 'em, and tail 'em down
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| Like they did in days gone by
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| And good slab fence, and common sense
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| Are ne’er in short supply
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| Where the iron still hits the fire
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| And the rope’s thrown straight and true
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| And they scorch their hides, till upon their sides
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| The brand is showing through
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| And the spring time turns with the coulee’s curve
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| And it’s summer once again
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| Whoopi ti yi yo, at the rodeo
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| And we pray our buddies win
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| It’s Western swing and waltzes
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| Like to wear out your boots
|
| It’s horsehair floors, and Louis L’Amour
|
| After they close the chutes
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| When they’ve rode up all the rank ones
|
| And the chucks are out of sight
|
| It’s Western swing and waltzes
|
| In Saskatchewan tonight
|
| It’s Western swing and waltzes
|
| Like to wear out your boots
|
| It’s horsehair floors, and Louis L’Amour
|
| After they close the chutes
|
| When they’ve rode up all the rank ones
|
| And the chucks are out of sight
|
| It’s Western swing and waltzes
|
| In Saskatchewan tonight
|
| It’s Western swing and waltzes
|
| In Saskatchewan tonight |