| Old Hank was a drifter passing through,
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| He stayed long enough to cry the blues,
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| Acquainted with the bottle,
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| He knew the good Lord too,
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| Hank was drifter passing through;
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| Lefty was an oil rigger’s son,
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| He felt every word he ever sung,
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| And when it came to singing, Lord,
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| He showed them how it’s done;
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| Old Lefty was an oil rigger’s son.
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| They broke the ground
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| On the road that we go down today,
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| Like a train whistle passing,
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| Their voices are starting to fade.
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| There are some who sing their praises,
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| Others tip their hats,
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| But it seems like we owe ‘em more than that.
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| Marty painted pictures with a song,
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| El Paso made the whole world sing along,
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| With the story of Felina and the cowboy in her arms,
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| Marty painted pictures with a song.
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| Waylon was the outlaw of our time,
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| Not afraid to lay it on the line,
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| He went against the grain,
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| And he always spoke his mind,
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| Waylon was the outlaw of our time.
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| They broke the ground
|
| On the road that we go down today,
|
| Like a train whistle passing,
|
| Their voices are starting to fade
|
| There are some who sing their praises,
|
| Others tip their hats,
|
| But it seems like we owe ‘em more than that,
|
| There are some who sing their praises,
|
| Others tip their hats,
|
| But it seems like we owe ‘em more than that
|
| But it seems like we owe ‘em more than that,
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| We all know we owe ‘em more than that…
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| Yeah, we do. |