| As I walked out in the streets of Laredo
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| As I walked out in Laredo one day
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| I spied a young cowboy, wrapped all in white linen
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| Wrapped in white linen, as cold as the clay
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| Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly
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| Sing the Death March as you carry me along
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| Take me to the valley, there lay the sod o’er me
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| I’m a young cowboy and know I’ve done wrong
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| I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy
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| These words he did say as I boldly walked by
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| Come sit down beside me
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| And hear my sad story
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| Go shoot?
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| Go fetch me some water, a cool cup of water
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| To cool my parched lips
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| Then the poor cowboy said
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| Before I returned, his spirit had left him
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| Had gone to his maker, the cowboy was dead
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| Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly
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| Sing the Death March as you carry me along
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| Take me to the valley, there lay the sod o’er me
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| I’m a young cowboy and know I’ve done wrong |