| Last saturday night on Rooster Hill
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| I lost 4 one hundred dollar bills
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| Came home with my champion cock cut all to pieces
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| Some home made shine made my vision blur
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| And I carelessly tied up a pair of spurs
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| Last saturday night on Rooster Hill
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| I pick Cortez up off the ground
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| Neck was floppin' he wasn’t makin' a sound
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| Left leg was missing and he was barely breathin'
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| I dropped him down in paper sack
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| And told old Charlie I’d be coming back
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| Next saturday night on Rooster Hill
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| So I took Cortez home and laid him in his cage
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| He was up and about in a couple of days
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| Hopin' round and crowing loud revenge
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| I feed him steak the rest of the week
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| He’d just rip it apart with his angry beak
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| Got to snapin' the cage wired like a pair of pliers
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| Look out cortez is coming back
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| And he won’t be in no paper sack
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| He’s healed and he’s fired up
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| For Rooster Hill
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| Well saturday night rolled around again
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| And I tucked cortez into his portable pin
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| And we headed on up to check out the secluded hill
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| When we arrived the bones was already rollin
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| And you could hear Charlie’s big bad gray a crowing
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| And sure enough it’s saturday night on Rooster Hill
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| We scaled them up and Cortez was light
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| And I said that’s alright let old one leg fight
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| And Charlie gave three to one odds one his big bad gray
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| We faced them off and Cortez knew
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| He was looking at the bird that spurred and chewed him half away last week
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| On Rooster Hill
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| We set 'em down to let 'em scratch
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| And it took all I had to hold Cortez back
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| He dug a hole deep enough to bury the big gray
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| Charlie look at me and said a grand to five
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| I said Charlie you’re on let them feathers fly
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| It’s saturday night
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| On Rooster Hill
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| Look out cortez is coming back
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| And he won’t be in no paper sack
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| He’s healed and he’s fired up
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| For Rooster Hill
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| Earl gives a count and hollers pit
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| And cortez flies up to make one fatale hit
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| And Charlie kicks his big bad gray in the gully
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| He slowly peels off ten big bills
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| And I say Charlie old buddy I know how it feels
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| This ain’t my first trip to Rooster Hill
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| It’s sunday morning back here on the farm
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| Things are quiet except around the barn
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| It’s sunrise and I’m cookin' Cortez a t-bone
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| All the bars are closed and the only action
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| Is my champion cock crowing satisfaction
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| And me a count’n my take…
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| On Rooster Hill |