| One evening as the sun went down
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| And the jungle fires were burning,
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| Down the track came a hobo hiking,
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| And he said, «Boys, I’m not turning
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| I’m headed for a land that’s far away
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| Besides the crystal fountains
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| So come with me, we’ll go and see
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| The Big Rock Candy Mountains
|
| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
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| There’s a land that’s fair and bright,
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| Where the handouts grow on bushes
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| And you sleep out every night.
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| Where the boxcars all are empty
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| And the sun shines every day
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| And the birds and the bees
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| And the cigarette trees
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| The lemonade springs
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| Where the bluebird sings
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| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
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| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
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| All the cops have wooden legs
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| And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth
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| And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
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| The farmers' trees are full of fruit
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| And the barns are full of hay
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| Oh I’m bound to go
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| Where there ain’t no snow
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| Where the rain don’t fall
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| The winds don’t blow
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| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
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| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
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| You never change your socks
|
| And the little streams of alcohol
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| Come trickling down the rocks
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| The brakemen have to tip their hats
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| And the railway bulls are blind
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| There’s a lake of stew
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| And of whiskey too
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| You can paddle all around it
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| In a big canoe
|
| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
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| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
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| The jails are made of tin.
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| And you can walk right out again,
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| As soon as you are in.
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| There ain’t no short-handled shovels,
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| No axes, saws nor picks,
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| I’m bound to stay
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| Where you sleep all day,
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| Where they hung the jerk
|
| That invented work
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| In the Big Rock Candy Mountains. |