| I ride an old paint, I lead an old dan
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| I’m goin' to Montana to throw the hoolihan
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| I ride an old paint, I lead an old dan
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| I’m goin' to Montana to throw the hoolihan
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| They feed in the coulees, they water in the draw
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| Their tails are all matted, and their backs are all raw
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| Ride around little dogies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are rarin' to go
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| Old Bill Jones had a daughter and a son
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| Some went to college and the daughter went wrong
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| His wife, she got killed in a poolroom fight
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| But still he keeps singin' from mornin' till night
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| Ride around little dogies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are rarin' to go
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| I worked in the city, worked in the farm
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| All I’ve got to show is this muscle in my arm
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| Blisters on my feet, callus on my hands
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| And I’m goin' to Montana to throw the hoolihan
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| Ride around little dogies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are rarin' to go
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| When I die, take my saddle from the wall
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| Place it on my pony, lead him out of his stall
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| Tie my bones to his back, turn our faces to the West
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| And we’ll ride the prairie that we love the best
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| Ride around little dogies, ride around them slow
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| For the fiery and snuffy are rarin' to go |