| Oh, miss Mary I settle down,
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| make an honest man out of me,
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| well I take to your father’s land,
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| I learn to keep good company.
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| In the spring you can marry me,
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| but women and pain they never wait.
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| Some got the timing right, but I was too late.
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| Oh, my bones are tired and worn,
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| time it shows upon my face,
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| I’m still looking for those mountain tops,
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| you can tell by the way I celebrate.
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| The fire’s now have all gone out,
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| but I think that I would stay,
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| Some got the timing right, but I was too late.
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| Sometimes I think that the sky will break,
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| you just keep me on the line,
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| my mother’s praying that my soul he’ll take,
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| a hope that gets me through the night.
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| I should turn the pages of your book of ages,
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| but my hands with age they shake,
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| Some got the timing right, but I was too late.
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| Oh, Missouri won’t you bless my soul,
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| 'cause I’m a Bellweather son,
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| When this city, it spits me out,
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| to the yours old highlands I will run.
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| If you don’t hear from me, keep it in your memory,
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| try to make it everyday,
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| Some got the timing right, but I was too late. |