The Deadwood Stage (Whip-Crack-Away!)

Album: Calamity Jane (1953)
  • Oh! The Deadwood Stage is a-rollin' on over the plains,
    With the curtains flappin' and the driver slappin' the reins.
    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 headin' straight for town, loaded down, with a fancy cargo,
    Care of Wells and 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 turnin' round, homeward bound,
    Can't you hear 'em humming,
    Happy times are coming for to stay - hey!

    We'll be home tonight by the light of the silvery moon,
    And our hearts are thumpin' like a mandolin a-plunking a tune.
    When I get home, I'm fixing to stay.
    So, Whip crack-away!, Whip crack-away!, Whip crack-away!
    Whip crack-away!, Whip crack-away!, Whip crack-away!

    Introducin' Henry Miller,
    just as busy as a fizzy sarsparilla.
    He's a showman and he's smarter,
    operates the Golden Garter,
    where the cream of Deadwood City come to dine.
    And I'm glad to say he's a very good friend of mine.

    Hi Joe, say where d'you get them fancy clothes?
    I know! Off some fellow's laundry line.
    Hi Beau. Well aren't you the Prairie Rose,
    Smelling like a watermelon vine.

    Here's a man the Sheriff watches.
    On his gun there's more 'n 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 throats as dry as a desert thistle in May
    In the Golden Garter I'm gonna wet my whistle today
    Last to the bar is a three legged crow
    Set 'em up Joe, Set 'em up Joe, Set 'em up Joe.
    Writer/s: PAUL FRANCIS WEBSTER, SAMMY FAIN
    Publisher: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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