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As I walked out in New Reno one day.
I spied a young cowboy all wrapped in white linen.
Wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay.
"Oh, beat the drums slowly and play the fife lowly.
Play the dead march as you bear me along.
Take me to the valley and lay the sod o'er me.
I'm a young cowboy; I know I've done wrong."
"I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I slowly walked by.
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story.
I'm shot in the chest and today I must die."
"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water,
to cool my parch my lips," the cowboy then said.
Before I returned his soul had departed,
and gone to the roundup; the cowboy was dead.
"Oh, beat the drums slowly and play the fife lowly.
Play the dead march as you bear me along.
Take me to the valley and lay the sod o'er me.
For I'm a young cowboy; I know I've done wrong."