| While drivin' a herd of cattle out in old Nebraska way
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| Headin' east at Broken Bow one hot September day
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| Tryin' to get to Omaha we hoped to find a buyer
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| We never counted in the odds of a western prairie fire
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| A hot south wind was blowin' and the air was gettin' dry
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| Somethin' far away was spellin' trouble in the sky
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| Comin' closer was a sound that topped the devil’s choir
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| Then we knew we had to race a raging prairie fire
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| When all at once a flame is seen a lickin' at the sky
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| And every heart is quicker and there’s fear in every eye
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| We’d just one chance to get away for there’s no place to hide
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| Gotta reach the river Platte one inch deep and one mile wide
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| The herd is gettin' tired but we’ve got no time to rest
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| I try to clear the red dust that is gatherin' in my chest
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| From ridin' tail on a thousand head with the weather gettin' dry
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| The black cloud in the west is warning ride ride ride
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| The roarin' heat is closer ashes fallin' by our side
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| And every breeze is burnin' singin' with it’s warnin' cry
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| We’ve got to reach the river but it’s still ten miles or more
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| And close behind us we can hear that wind infernal roar
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| But fate had other plans for we lost that fatal race
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| We lost for neither man nor beast could long keep up the pace
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| The mighty Platte subdued it’s rage but none were there to rest
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| We did our best to get away but only I am left
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| Now on the blackened prairie far as the eye can see
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| The grim remains are there to show that God rules you and me Just one he left to tell the tale just one was his desire
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| We lost our herd and thirty men to a raging prairie fire |