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DEADWOOD STAGE (Fain / Webster) Doris Day In brackets = other actors Oh, the Deadwood stage is a-rolling on over the plains With the curtains flappin’ and the driver a-snappin’ the reins A beautiful sky, a wonderful day Whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away Oh, the Deadwood stage is a-headin’ on over the hills Where the Injun arrows are thicker than porcupine quills Dangerous land, no time to delay So, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away We’re headed straight for town Loaded down with a fancy cargo Care of Wells & Fargo, Illinois, boy Oh, the Deadwood stage is a-comin’ on over the crest Like a homing-pigeon that’s a-hankerin’ after its nest Twenty-three miles we’ve covered today So, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away The wheels go turning round, homeward-bound Can’t you hear them hummin’ Happy times are comin’ for to stay, hey We’ll be home tonight by the light of the silvery moon And my heart’s a-thumpin’ like a mandolin a-plunkin’ a tune When I get home, I’m fixin’ to stay So, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away Whip-crack away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away (Here they be, here they be, how’s about a welcome) (A peaceful sorta welcome for the gang) Bang! (=gunshot) Oh, the Deadwood stage is finally home again (Well, ‘scuse my stammerin’, if it ain’t Calamity Jane) (Hiya Calam, what ya’ bring us today) (New rubber boots, ten-dollar suits) (Things to crochet) Beads that sparkle like a prism Snake oil for your rheumatism Calico and gingham for the girls Gumdrops made up in Chicargy Gum drops just a trifle soggy And genuine string of artificial pearls Here’s a hat from Cincinatti Same as Adelina Patti Wore in every famous concert hall Cast your eye on Dr Boer’s patent-pending hair-restorer Guaranteed to grow hair on a billiard ball Introducing Henry Miller Just as busy as a fizzy sasparilla Ain’t a showman any smarter operates the Golden Garter When the cream of Deadwood City comes to dine And I’m glad to say he’s a friend of mine Hi Joe, say, where d’ya get them fancy clothes I know, off some fella’s laundry line Hi Beau, aren’t you a prairie rose Smellin’ like a watermelon vine Here’s a man the sheriff watches On his gun there’s more than twenty-seven notches On the draw there’s no one faster and you’re flirting with disaster When Bill Hickok’s reputation you malign And I’m glad to say he’s a very good friend of a friend of mine Oh, my throat’s as dry as a desert thistle in May In the Golden Garter, gonna wet my whistle today Last to the bar’s a three-legged crow Set ‘em up Joe, set ‘em up Joe, set ‘em up Joe (Drinks on the house, drinks on the house) Set ‘em up Joe

    


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