| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Play that country tuba, play that country tuba
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Well musicians' stories have made the rounds
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| About traveling bands in red-neck towns
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| But for tuba players this has got to be a first
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| This one starts like they all do
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| I’d been traveling hard for a day or two
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| And I stopped into this joint to quench my thirst
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| Up walked this big mountain man
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| Said, «What'cha got there? |
| A garbage can?»
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| And I said, «Excuse me, that’s my tuba, if you please.»
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| He said «Great play a country song
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| So me and my buddies can sing along»
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| And I told him I only play with symphonies
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| He slammed his fist and spit out his beer
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| And his body language made it very clear
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| This wasn’t going to be just another B-flat day
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| That’s when he cocked his thirty-odd-six
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| And boy, I let out with some country licks
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| I’d never thought I’d hear my tuba play
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Play that country tuba, play that country tuba
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Well after a while I ran outta air
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| And I figured I’d better get out of there
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| So I grabbed my horn and headed for the door
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| Just about then I felt a lasso
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| Wrapped around me and my tuba too
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| And they yanked me back and 'ey hollered «More man more!»
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy
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| Play that country tuba, play that country tuba
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| Play that country tuba, cowboy |