(J. Dickinson-R. Cooder)
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This here was our situation
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We was just young wildwood boys
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New as the birth of the nation
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The kind that the Army employs
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High riding Rebs from Missouri
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Fought for the grey ???
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Caught up by the battle and the fury
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Back when just living was hell
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After the battle was over
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And after the Union had won
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It was quitting that made us the loser
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So we kept doing just what we'd done
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Riding as comrads together
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We looted the trains and the banks
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Removing that carpetbag money
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And sticking it hard to the Yanks
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Death always follows behind you
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When you ride down that old outlaw trail
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Someday a bullet will find you
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Or you'll rot like a corpse in some jail
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Turning your back to the danger
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Is a wager no man can afford
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'Cause gold turns a friend to a stranger
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Like old Judas turned on our Lord
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Men are revered and remembered
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While they lay in that coffin and rot
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Some live in the legends of history
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Most are forever forgot
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The victory it goes to the strongest
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And only the strong will survive
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Survival is living the longest
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But nobody gets out alive
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The questions don't never get answered
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And the rights, they're remembered all wrong
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The facts, they can get plenty confusing
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So someday if you happen to be singing this song
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Remember it's just for the record
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You can't change the handwork of fate
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And tell 'em I lived for the moment
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And I died when I tried to go straight
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WILDWOOD BOYS
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Ry Cooder |