| When the train pulled in to the station
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| He rolled up his sleeves, rosined up his bow
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| He fiddle upside down, Orange Blossom Special
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| If you want to make a living, you’ve got to put on a good show
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| When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
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| Slicked his hair back, opened up his case
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| Played Cherokee Fiddle, played for the whiskey
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| Good whiskey never let him lose his place
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| He was always there, playing for the miners
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| Devil’s Dream was a tune they all understood
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| Then he’d go back to Oklahoma
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| Wait till the trains was a runnin' and the weather was good
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| When he smelled the smoke and the cinders
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| Slicked his hair back, opened up his case
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| Played Cherokee Fiddle, just played for the whiskey
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| Good whiskey never let him lose his place
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| Now the Indians, all dressed like cowboys
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| All the cowboys are puttin' leather and turquoise on
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| And all the music is sold by the lawyers
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| And the fools who fiddled in the middle of the stations are gone
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| Some folks say they’ll never miss them
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| Fiddle screeched like the engine breaks
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| Cherokee Fiddle, gone forever
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| Like the music that the whistle on an old locomotive make
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| When you smell the smoke and the cinders
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| Slick your hair back, open up your case
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| Play a little Cherokee Fiddle, just play it for the whiskey, boys
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| Good whiskey never lets you lose your place
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| Good whiskey never lets you lose your place
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| Jack Daniels, never lets you lose your place |