The Open Range
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The Open Range
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Most of my early years were in moving camps
My parents must be gypsies or maybe tramps
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we'd go about the country burning every town
Or go back to last year put an uprising down
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My uncle was the boss man killing all the weak
He plainly was a very out of control freak
.
He didn't like the city an island he called home
Sea breeze and little fishes for him to bone
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His island was were everybody got a chance
To climb on top and do their little dance
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Everyone thought my wishes were a little strange
I wanted to be a cowboy riding the open range
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Sleep under the stars for a pillow use a log
Drink warm cactus whiskey and bark like a dog
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I'd give it all away and abandon my earthly roots
Walking tall you can just call me "little boots"
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.Fair Use Encouraged
.All Rights Reserved
.
11 April 2010
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