| If I die young, write my mother
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| Tell her that I love her, but my soul’s gone home
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| And take my vessel to Anderson County
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| Drive real slow and take the long way home
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| Tell my kin to pick up a shovel
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| Wrestle that sugar sand and bury my bones
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| Won’t you bury my bones, beneath these pines?
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| When it comes time for you to bury my bones
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| Now, don’t throw me no funeral, sister, don’t cry
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| Saw that fiddle, brother, pass that 'shine
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| Deep down in the holler, pick the tallest pine
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| Dig it real deep where the roots touch mine
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| Cross the Red River where it opens wide
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| The heroine sails to the Choctaw side
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| Follow my trail to a silver stone
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| And gather my body when you bury my bones
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| Won’t you bury my bones?
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| Yeah, if I die young, write my mother
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| Tell her that I love her, but my soul’s gone home
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| And take me back to Anderson County
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| Drive real slow and take the long way home
|
| And tell my kin to pick up a shovel
|
| Wrestle that sugar sand and bury my bones
|
| Bury my bones beneath these pines
|
| When it comes time
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| Yeah, if I die young
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| Yeah, if I die young
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| Yeah, if I die young |