| Look out, Mama, there’s a white boat coming up the river
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| With a big red beacon, and a flag, and a man on the rail
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| I think you’d better call John
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| Because it don’t look like they’re here to deliver the mail
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| And it’s less than a mile away
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| I hope they didn’t come to stay
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| It’s got numbers on the side and a gun
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| And it’s making big waves
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| Daddy’s gone, my brother’s out hunting in the mountains
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| Big John’s been drinking since the river took Emmy-Lou
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| So the Powers That Be left me here to do the thinkin'
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| And I just turned twenty-two
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| I was wondering what to do
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| And the closer they got
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| The more those feelings grew
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| Daddy’s rifle in my hand felt reassuring
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| He said, Red means run, son, numbers add up to nothing
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| But when the first shot hit the docks I saw it coming
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| Raised my rifle to my eye
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| Never stopped to wonder why
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| Then I saw black
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| And my face splashed in the sky
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| Shelter me from the powder and the finger
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| Cover me with the thought that pulled the trigger
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| Think of me as one you’d never figured
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| Would fade away so young
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| With so much left undone
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| Remember me to my love
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| I know I’ll miss her |