| I ride an old paint, I lead an old Dan
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| I’m goin' to Montana to throw a hoolihan
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| They feed in the coolies, they water in the draw
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| Their tails are all matted, their backs are all raw
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| Ride around, ride around real slow
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| The fiery and the snuffy are rarin' to go
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| Old Bill Brown had a daughter and a son
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| One went to Denver and the other went wrong
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| His wife, she died in a poolroom fight
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| And still he keeps singin' from mornin' till night
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| When I die, take my saddle from the wall
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| Put it on my pony and lead him from 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 |