| There is a young cowboy he lives on the range
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| His horse and his cattle are his only companions
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| He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons
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| Waiting for Summer, his pastures to change
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| And as the moon rises he sits by his fire
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| Thinking about women and glasses of beer
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| And closing his eyes as the doggies retire
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| He sings out a song which is soft but it’s clear
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| As if maybe someone could hear
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| (Chorus)
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| Goodnight you moonlight ladies
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| Rockabye sweet baby James
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| Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
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| Won’t you let me go down in my dreams
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| And rockabye sweet baby James
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| Now the first of December was covered with snow
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| And so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston
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| Lord, the Berkshires seemed dream-like on account of that frosting
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| With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go There’s a song that they sing when they take to the highway
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| A song that they sing when they take to the sea
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| A song that they sing of their home in the sky
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| Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep
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| But singing works just fine for me
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| — Chorus — |