| Well, the good times scratched a laugh
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| From the lungs of the young men
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| In a Deadwood saloon, South Dakota afternoon
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| And the old ones by the door
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| With their heads on their chests
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| They told lies about whiskey on a womans breath
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| Yes, and some tell the story of young Mickey Free
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| Who lost an eye to a buck deer in the Tongue River Valley
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| Oh and some tell the story of California Joe
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| Who sent word through the Black Hills
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| There was a mountain of gold
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| And the gold she lay cold in their pockets
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| And the sun she sets down on the trees
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| And they thank the Lord
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| For the land that they live in
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| Where the white man does as he pleases
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| Some flat-shoed fool from the East comes a-runnin'
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| With some news that he’d read in some St. Joseph paper
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| And it was «Drinks all around» cause the news he was tellin'
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| Was the one they called Crazy
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| Has been caught and been dealt with
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| And the Easterner he read the news from the paper
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| And the old ones moved closer so’s they could hear better
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| «Well it says here that Crazy Horse
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| Was killed while trying to escape
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| And that was some time last September
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| It don’t give the exact date»
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| And the gold she lay cold in their pockets
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| And the sun she sets down on the trees
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| And they thank the Lord
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| For the land that they live in
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| Where the white man does as he pleases
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| Where the white man does as he pleases
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| Then the talk turned back to whiskey and women
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| And cold nights on the plains, Lord
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| And fightin' them indians
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| And the Easterner he says he’ll have one more
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| 'fore he goes
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| He gives the paper to the Crow boy
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| Who sweeps up the floor
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| And the gold she lay cold in their pockets
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| And the sun she sets down on the trees
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| And they thank the Lord
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| For the land that they live in
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| Where the white man does as he pleases
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| Where the white man does as he pleases
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| Where the white man does as he pleases
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| As he wants to, as he pleases |