| My father he rides with your sheriffs
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| And I know he would never mean harm
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| But to see both sides of a quarrel
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| Is to judge without haste or alarm
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| Oh, oh, helpless and slow
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| And you don’t have anywhere to go You take away homes from the homeless
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| And leave them to die in the cold
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| The gypsy who begs for your presents
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| He will laugh in your face when you’re old
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| Oh, oh, helpless and slow
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| And you don’t have anywhere to go Well one man he drinks up his whiskey
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| Another he drinks up his wine
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| And they’ll drink ‘till their eyes are red with hate
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| For those of a different kind
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| Oh, oh, helpless and slow
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| And you don’t have anywhere to go When the rivers run thicker than trouble
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| I’ll be there at your side in the flood
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| T’was all I could do to keep myself
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| From taking revenge on your blood
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| Oh, oh, helpless and slow
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| And you don’t have anywhere to go Oh, oh, helpless and slow
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| And you don’t have anywhere to go |