| One beautiful night when the moon was full
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| And the air was crisp and clear
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| A cowboy lay on the starlit plain
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| And thought of his home so dear
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| He thought of his mother he loved so well
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| And the slumber of sleep was blurred
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| Not a sound to be heard but those of the night
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| As he sang a wild song to his herd
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| The cattle are lying so quiet and still
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| On the carpet that mantles the west
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| While the golden links from the sky at night
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| Sings peace to the cowboy’s stress
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| Still he thinks of his mother in a faraway land
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| And his thoughts by memory was stirred
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| And he sees himself to the old home again
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| As he sings a wild song to his herd
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| He’s far from the din of the city noise
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| Where the links of folly do shine
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| He’s far from the brawls of the dives of sin
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| And the flow of the sparkling wine
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| He’s in the great west with its mantle of green
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| Where his neighbors say never a word
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| A land of marriages, mountains and plains
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| Where the cowboy sings low to his herd |