TROUGH THE GREY FROSTY DAWN, EVERY COLD WINTER¡¯S MORN,
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ROLLED THIS LAD FULL OF LIFE AND JOY.
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EVERYDAY JUST THE SAME, DOWN THE ROAD WHERE HE CAME,
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HE WAS KNOWN AS THEIR OWN SADDLE BOY.
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IN HIS YOUTH FREE FROM STRIFE, HE WAS CALLED FROM THIS LIFE,
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FROM THE SORROWS OF LIFE'S HIGHWAY.
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HE WAS NEEDED ABOVE AT THE HOMESTEAD OF LOVE,
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FOR THE LAST FINAL ROUND OF SOME DAY.
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NOW THE SAD WILLOWS WAVE ON A COLD SILENT GRAVE,
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WHERE THE TALL GRASSES BEND AND BOW.
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AND THE JACKASS'S LAUGH IS THE ONLY EPITAPH,
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ON THE GRAVE OF THIS BRAVE SADDLE BOY.
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AT THE SCHOOL HOUSE ON THE RISE, TEACHER ALWAYS WATCHED THE SKIES,
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FOR THE STORM CLOUD THAT GROWS LIKE THORN,
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YOU¡¯VE A LONG WAY HE SAID, SO YOU¡¯D BETTER GO AHEAD,
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SADDLE UP SADDLE BOY RIDE FOR HOME.
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HE HAD TEN MILES TO RIDE, THROUGH THE DARK COUNTRYSIDE,
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AS THE STORM ALL AROUND RAGED ON.
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JUST ONE CREEK LEFT TO CROSS, STRUCK BY DRIFTWOOD BOY & HORSE,
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SWEPT AWAY BY THAT MAD RAGING STORM.
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AND THE LIGHTNING OVERHEAD, SHOWED THE LAST SANDY BED,
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WHERE THE BOY AND THE PONY LAY.
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AN OLD BOUNDARY RIDER TROY, WAS THE ONE WHO FOUND THE BOY,
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AND WHO TOOK SADLY MESSAGE THE NEXT DAY.
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AND THE OLD PEOPLE SAY, OF THE LONG NIGHTS IN MAY,
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WHEN THE WIND IN THE VALLEY ROAMS,
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POUNDING HOOF BEATS THAT SOUND, THROUGH THE TALL TIMBER LAND, IS THEIR OWN
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SADDLE BOY RIDING HOME.
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Saddle Boy
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Kasey Chambers |