| knew a guy who lived in Santa Fe
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| Had a girl he loved who went away
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| Said her name was Spooky Boots that’s all
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| It’s the only name he ever knew to call
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| She left in the middle of the night
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| And it’s strange they never even had a fight
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| And he spends every Saturday now
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| Hoping to see Spooky Boots
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| In the old town square of Santa Fe
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| He wonders hopes and prays
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| She’ll come back to stay
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| He hopes that there’s a way
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| To find Spooky Boots someday
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| An old biker guy who used a cane to walk
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| I just sat and listened to him talk
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| Can’t explain why she would up and go
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| 'Till he finds her he will never know
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| And I thought how long had it been
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| And I stopped, stopped to ask him when
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| And he paused, took a sip of wine
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| Calmly said since April twenty-second
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| Nineteen sixty nine
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| And I thought how long had it been
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| And I stopped, stopped to ask him when
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| And he paused, finished off his wine
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| Said he looked for Spooky Boots
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| Since April nineteen sixty nine |