| The cowboy ain’t no dandy
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| When it comes to wearing clothes
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| But when he comes to the city
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| He goes as the other folks go
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| There’s just two things he’s a’wearing
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| From which he never stoops
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| He’ll stick to his old sombrero
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| He’ll stick to his high heel boots
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| He’ll tackle a string and collar
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| That hitch to a stiff boil shirt
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| He’ll discard his chaps and gauntlets
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| To wash off the prairie dirt
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| But he’ll hang on to possessions
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| Though folks may turn up thieir snoots
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| He’ll stick to his old sombrero
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| He’ll stick to his high heel boots
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| He’ll peel off his old bandana
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| And his levi’s too he’ll drop
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| He’ll wear store duds and neckties
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| And his old blue shirt he’ll swap
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| But for just this part of his outfit
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| He never has substitutes
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| He’ll stick to his old sombrero
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| He’ll stick to his high heel boots
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| He’ll part his hair in the middle
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| And with perfume adorn hisself
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| He’ll put on some real suspenders
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| Instead of a cartridge belt
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| He’ll lay off the gun he’s a’wearing
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| But in spite of the jears and the hoots
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| He’ll stick to his old sombrero
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| He’ll stick to his high heel boots
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| Oh yes he’s a queerious mixture
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| When in from the range he strays
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| And puts on the towns? |
| and toggins?
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| And copies the city man’s ways
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| But when into town he’s comin'
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| To mix with the dudes and recruits
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| He’ll stick to his old sombrero
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| He’ll stick to his high heel boots |