| Three fingers whiskey pleasures the drinker
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| But moving does more than that drinking for me
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| Willy he tells me that doers and thinkers say moving’s the closest thing to
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| being free
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| He rosined his riggin he laid back his wages he’s dead set on ridin' the big
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| rodeos
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| My woman’s tight with an overdue baby and Willy keeps yelling hey big T let’s go
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| Willy you’re wild as a Texas Blue Norther ready rolled from the same makins as
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| me
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| And I reckon we’ll ramble till hell freezes over Willy the wandering Gypsy and
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| me
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| Now ladies we surely will take up your pleasures
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| But I’ve got to warn ya there never will be
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| A single soul living can put brand or handle on Willy the wandering Gypsy and me
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| Well they dance on the mountains and they shout in the canyons
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| And they swarm in a loose herd like the wild buffalos
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| Jammin' our heads full of figures and angles and tellin' us stuff that we
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| already know
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| Willy you’re wild…
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| Would you believe Billy Joe Shaver and me |