| He wore starched white shirts buttoned at the neck
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| And he’d sit in the shade and watch the chickens peck
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| And his teeth were gone, but what the heck
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| I thought, that he walked, on water
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| He said he was a cowboy, when he was young
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| He could handle a rope, and he was good with a gun
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| And my mama’s daddy was his oldest son
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| And I thought, that he walked, on water
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| And if the story was told, only heaven knows
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| But his hat seemed to me, like an old halo
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| And although his wings, they were never seen
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| I thought, that he walked, on water
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| Then he tied a cord, to the end of a mop
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| And said, «son, here’s a pony, keep her at a trot»
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| And I’d ride in circles while he laughed a lot
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| Then I’d flop down beside him
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| And he was ninety years old in '63
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| And I loved him and he loved me
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| And lord, I cried the day he died
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| 'Cause I thought, that he walked, on water
|
| And if the story was told, only heaven knows
|
| But his hat seemed to me, like an old halo
|
| And though his wings, they were never seen
|
| I thought, that he walked, on water
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| Yeah, I thought that he walked, on water |