| «Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie»
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| These words came slow and mournfully
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| From the bleedin' lips of the youth who lay
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| On his dyin' bed at the close of day
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| He moaned in pain while over his head
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| The shadows of death grew thick like lead
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| He thought of his home and family that night
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| As the cowboys gathered to watch him die
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| «Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie
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| Where the wild coyotes howl over me
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| In a narrow grave, just six by three
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| Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie»
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| «In dreams I’ve listened to the well-known words
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| Of the wild prairie winds and the songs of birds
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| I think of the table where my mama put flowers
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| And the scenes I loved in those long lost hours»
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| «It matters not I’ve often been told
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| Where the body lies when the heart grows cold
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| Oh grant, oh grant this wish to me
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| And 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 mama’s grave please let mine be
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| And bury me not on the lone prairie»
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| «Oh, bury me not», and his voice stopped there
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| But we took no heed of his dyin' prayer
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| In a narrow grave, just six by three
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| We buried him there on the lone prairie |