| Her mama picked him up in south Minnesota
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| He promised her the world but they never got that far
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| For he was last seen in that '59 DeSoto
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| When Sally was born in the Black Hills of Dakota
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| She was washed in the blood of the dying Sioux nation
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| Raised with a proud but a wandering heart
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| And she knew that her roots were in the old reservation
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| But she had stars in her eyes and greater expectations
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| No rings on her fingers, no bells on her toes
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| With bugs on her headlights and runs in her hose
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| Through the valley of the shadow of Roosevelt’s nose
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| Adios South Dakota, adios Sally Rose
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| They’ve got a national monument carved out of stone
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| On the side of a mountain where her forefathers roamed
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| Playing cowboys and Indians right under the nose
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| Of Theodore Roosevelt and the sweet Sally Rose
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| So she left Rapid City in the blue moonlight hour
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| With her eye on the highway and her foot on the floor
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| And turning the dial, she was pulled by the power
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| Of the word coming out of the broadcasting tower
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| No rings on her fingers, no bells on her toes
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| With bugs on her headlights and runs in her hose
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| Through the valley of the shadow of Roosevelt’s nose
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| Adios South Dakota, adios Sally Rose |