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The Outlaw |
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But he'll bow to the bit and the steeUshod boot
And own that his boss is the man. When the devil at rest underneath my vest
Gets up and begins to paw,
And my hot tongue strains at its bridle-reins, Then I tackle the real outlaw;
When I get plumb riled and my sense goes wild, And my temper has fractious growed,
If he'll hump his neck just a triflin' speck, Then it's dollars to dimes I'm thro wed.
For a man is a man, but he}s partly a beast —
He kin brag till he makes you deaf, But the one, lone brute, from the West to the
East, That he kaint quite break, is himse'f. Charles B. Clark, Jr. |
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