| A long time ago, I left my home,
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| For a job in the fruit trees.
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| But I miss those hills and the windy pines:
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| Their song seemed to suit me.
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| So I sent my wages to my home.
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| Said we’d soon be together.
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| For the next good crop would pay my way,
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| And I’d come home forever.
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| (Chorus)
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| One more dime to show for my day,
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| One more dollar and I’m on my way.
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| When I reach those hills, boys, I’ll never roam.
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| One more dollar, and I’m going home.
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| «No work"said the boss at the bunkhouse door.
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| «There's a freeze on the branches.»
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| So when the dice came out at the bar downtown,
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| I rolled and took my chances.
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| (Chorus)
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| A long time ago, I left my home,
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| Just a girl passing twenty.
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| Could you spare a coin or a christian prayer?
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| For my luck has turned against me.
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| (Chorus, last phrase repeated) |