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Cowboy Lyrics |
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WHEN SHE GOES TO GET THE MAIL
She hain't got any dimunds nor a rustlin' lot
o' silk, Never uses them cosmetics, never bathes her
face in milk; But she's jes' a little chicken livin' out there
by the trail, That a feller meets a Sunday when she goes to get the mail.
When she goes to get the mail An' the sunset's gettin' pale, An' the grass is like a carpet 'Long the old Pactola trail.
Freckles, yes, but lips of honey; nose turns
up a bit, I guess, An' there's jes' a scad o' patches in her little
homely dress; But I'd rather, rather have her than most
others that I know, B'cause, well, honest Injun, jes' b'cause I love her so.
When she goes to get the mail, Allers meet her without fail, Jes' to ride home in the twilight On the old Pactola trail. |
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