| Where did you come from and where did you go?
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| The rattlers are still and the ashes are cold
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| The stage, it is empty; |
| the Union Halls, dark
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| And the lights are so bright that I can’t see the stars
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| Ain’t no heaven and hell in the Great By-And-By
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| Where the dead they are laughing, singin' and spillin' their wine
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| Seattle to Spokane, Missoula to Butte:
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| The spare-changer's stories so boring and true
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| Now the world ain’t so lonesome without you around
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| Hey, tell me, where can you camp where you can’t hear a sound?
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| Ain’t no heaven and hell in the Great By-And-By
|
| Where the dead they are laughing, singin' and spillin' their wine
|
| Oh, the stories we’ll tell on our last and long ride
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| Where the dead they are laughing, singin' and spillin' their wine
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| Now that God’s gone and the Devil’s in a hole
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| It’s Aces, Straights, Flushes with Johnny and Joe
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| No masters, no Yard Bulls to chase a boy down
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| He’s gone to where the bums go when they’re run out of town
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| Ain’t no heaven and hell in the Great By-And-By
|
| Where the dead they are laughing, singin' and spillin' their wine
|
| Say «So Long» to the rails, from the sage to the pine
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| While the dead they are laughing, singin' and spillin' their wine
|
| Oh, the stories we’ll tell on our last and long ride
|
| Where the dead they are laughing, singin' and spillin' their wine
|
| Where do you come from and where did you go? |