| «O bury me not on the lone prairie.»
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| These words came low and mournfully
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| From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
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| On his dying bed at the close of day
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| He had wasted and pined 'til o’er his brow
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| Death’s shades were slowly gathering now
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| He thought of home and loved ones nigh
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| As the cowboys gathered to see him die
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| «O bury me not on the lone prairie
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| Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free
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| In a narrow grave just six by three—
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| O bury me not on the lone prairie»
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| «It matters not, I’ve been told
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| Where the body lies when the heart grows cold
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| Yet grant, o grant, this wish to me
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| O bury me not on the lone prairie.»
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| «I've always wished to be laid when I died
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| In a little churchyard on the green hillside
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| By my father’s grave, there let me be
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| O bury me not on the lone prairie.»
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| «I wish to lie where a mother’s prayer
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| And a sister’s tear will mingle there
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| Where friends can come and weep o’er me
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| O bury me not on the lone prairie.»
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| «For there’s another whose tears will shed
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| For the one who lies in a prairie bed
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| It breaks me heart to think of her now
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| She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow.»
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| «O bury me not…» And his voice failed there
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| But they took no heed to his dying prayer
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| In a narrow grave, just six by three
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| They buried him there on the lone prairie
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| And the cowboys now as they roam the plain
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| For they marked the spot where his bones were lain
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| Fling a handful o' roses o’er his grave
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| With a prayer to God his soul to save |