| The banker came today
|
| And found Bobby pitchin' hay
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| By the road side
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| He said this paper in my hand
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| Says I will own this land
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| In a few days
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| Bobby’s eyes fell to the ground
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| He kicked the dirt around
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| In silence
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| He watched the banker drive away
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| He knew he could not pay
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| And it was over
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| But you can take a man’s gold
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| But you’ll never own his soul
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| The freedom of the soul
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| Lasts forever
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| Well, Bobby went to town
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| Searchin' all around for a favor
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| And he found Bo the old town drunk
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| Sleepin' in his bunk in the stable
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| He said you’ve only got one leg
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| But you won’t have to beg
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| If you’ll help me
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| You see, I’m going to sink a well
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| I’ll dig right down to Hell, if I have to
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| 'Cause you can take a man’s gold
|
| But you’ll never own his soul
|
| The freedom of the soul lasts forever
|
| Day and night they worked the well
|
| They slept right where they fell
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| In exhaustion
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| There was magic in the air
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| And neither seemed to care
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| What it would cost them
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| They were awakened by a sound
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| A deep rumbling in the ground
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| They felt as if an earthquake had begun
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| Mother nature’s precious crude
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| It bubbled and it spewed
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| And exploded like a geyser in the sun
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| Well, Bobby went to town
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| The people gathered 'round to see him
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| 'Cause there was oil everywhere
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| In his eyes, and in his hair
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| And he was laughin'
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| And he took his oil-filled cap
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| And he dumped it in the lap
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| Of the banker |