| I’ve sung this song, but I’ll sing it again
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| Of the place that I lived on the wild windy plains
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| In the month called April, county called Gray
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| And here’s what all of the people there say
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| CHORUS: So long, it’s been good to know yuh
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| So long, it’s been good to know yuh
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| So long, it’s been good to know yuh
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| This dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home
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| And I got to be driftin' along
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| A dust storm hit, an' it hit like thunder
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| It dusted us over, an' it covered us under
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| Blocked out the traffic an' blocked out the sun
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| Straight for home all the people did run
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| Singin'
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| We talked of the end of the world, and then
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| We’d sing a song an' then sing it again
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| We’d sit for an hour an' not say a word
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| And then these words would be heard
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| Sweethearts sat in the dark and sparked
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| They hugged and kissed in that dusty old dark
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| They sighed and cried, hugged and kissed
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| Instead of marriage, they talked like this
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| «Honey…»
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| Now, the telephone rang, an' it jumped off the wall
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| That was the preacher, a-makin' his call
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| He said, «Kind friend, this may the end
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| An' you got your last chance of salvation of sin!»
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| The churches was jammed, and the churches was packed
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| An' that dusty old dust storm blowed so black
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| Preacher could not read a word of his text
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| An' he folded his specs, an' he took up collection
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| Said
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| So long, it’s been good to know yuh
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| So long, it’s been good to know yuh
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| So long, it’s been good to know yuh
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| This dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home
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| And I got to be driftin' along |