The prairie is covered by a purple gown
As I ride through the hills today,
The summer is over and the nights are long
And we know that winter’s on its way.
The silence is broken by a dingo’s call
Way up in the mountains high,
Leisurely strumming on my old guitar
And the winter winds are blowing again.
When the winter winds are blowing from the west
And the pale moon rises o’er the mountain crest
I cover my pony with a rug of fur
Roll up in my blankets then,
The summer is over and the nights grow long
And the winter winds are blowing again. |
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