| When the moon comes over Old Smokey
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| I hear a lonesome hound-dog wail
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| I know it’s time to grab my hat and coat
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| For Old Gobbler’s hit the trail
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| It’s up through the hollow and down through the draw
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| The pine-trees begin to sing
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| They ring out the music of an old fox chase
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| They know this night will bring
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| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| That music echoes through my ears
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| I yell, go Gobbler go, boy, as I hit the ground on a run
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| That old fox hound is a-picking 'em up
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| I know a race has just begun
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| I hear Old Gobbler as he crosses the creek
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| Down through the meadow and over the peak
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| He’s a-rollin' now, boy, hot on the trail
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| Picking up steam like the Fireball Mail
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| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| That music echoes through my ears
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| I hear Old Gobbler as he talk’s to me
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| Sayin', here he is now, boy, up a tree
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| I run to the spot and lo and behold
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| There sits Old Gobbler still’s airin' to go
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| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| That music echoes through my ears
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk
|
| That music echoes through my ears
|
| Talk Gobbler, talk |