| One and all have heard the stories and eyewitness had been sworn
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| About a man born in Hard Burly back in June of '29
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| Must’ve got that Martin Meylin muzzle the day he was born
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| Things he could do with that rifle
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| Blow the balls off a bat, reload and shoot it one more time
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| Had an monster of a mule, was a mighty fine steed
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| Sham, and Sam, that tomahawk, and that Flintlocks all he need
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| Finding food and finding trouble and always takin' heed
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| And any man that crossed him was surely gonna bleed
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| And he’d stretch you up and burn you for callin' him half breed
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| Left the varnish off his words, feared no beast nor man
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| Didn’t wanna end up in his debt 'cause it’d damn sure get paid
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| He was harder than the nails hammered Jesus' hands
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| He was the one they called Dood
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| Son of a mountain miner and a Shawnee maiden
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| Wore a size 17 ring, had hands like a bear
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| And if he got 'em on ya, he’s takin' that top hair
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| His Grandfather taught him how to hunt and how to live off the land
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| Taught him how to take a scalp when you kill a man
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| He was a deadly warrin' daddy with a gun gleam in his eye
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| Till he found him a good woman that calmed down the rage
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| He built a home from the land with the hands good Lord gave him
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| And ol' Dood got his own food
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| Had no need for the scrip that ol' coal company paid
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| Left the varnish off his words, feared no beast nor man
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| And if either came upon him, they’d damn sure get slayed
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| He was harder than the nails hammered Jesus' hands
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| He was the one they called Dood
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| Son of a mountain miner and a Shawnee maiden
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| Son of a mountain miner and a Shawnee maiden |