| I ride an old Paint, I lead an old Dan
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| I’m goin' to Montana, for to throw the Houlihan
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| They feed in the coulees, they water in the draw
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| Their tails are all matted, their backs are all raw
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| Ride around, little doggies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are a rarin' to go
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| Old Bill Jones had a daughter and a son
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| Son went to college and the daughter went wrong
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| His wife got killed in a pool-room fight
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| Still he keeps singing from morning till night
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| Ride around, little doggies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are a rarin' to go
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| My feet are in the stirrups, my hand is on the horn
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| I’m the best old cowboy that ever was born
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| But a cowboy rides single, like it or not
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| So I guess that old paint is the best friend I got
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| Ride around, little dogies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are a rarin' to go
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| Oh, when I die, take my saddle from the wall
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| Put it on my pony, lead him out of his stall
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| Tie my bones to his back, turn our faces to the west
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| And we’ll ride the prairie that we loved the best
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| Ride around, little dogies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are a rarin' to go
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| I worked in the city, I worked on the farm
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| All I got to show is the muscle on my arm
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| Blisters on my feet and callous on my hands
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| And I’m going to Montana to throw the Houlihan
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| Ride around, little doggies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are a rarin' to go |