| They landed in Manhattan
|
| With rifles and hatchets
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| Screeching 'bout the living dead
|
| Eatin' all the fodder
|
| Like there wasn’t a tomorrow
|
| As they feared, how they feared, how they feared
|
| Sacajawea is gettin' meaner
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime, nickle dime
|
| It’s such a long road that we travel
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime, nickle dime
|
| Causin' more commotion
|
| With that steam locomotion
|
| On the flyin' country mile
|
| Blisters by the fistfulls
|
| 'Til the foreman blows the whistle
|
| And drinkin' whiskey all the while
|
| Sacajawea is gettin' meaner
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime, nickle dime
|
| It’s such a long road that we travel
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime
|
| Get up on the chuckwagon
|
| If your feet are draggin'
|
| Get up on the chuckwagon
|
| If your feet are draggin'
|
| Get up on the chuckwagon
|
| If your feet are draggin'-yeah!
|
| Well they landed on Europa
|
| And it’s colder than Dakota
|
| But they took the bull by the horns
|
| For the frozen ocean
|
| Foreman has himself the notion
|
| «This ain’t nothing we ain’t done before!»
|
| Sacajawea is gettin' meaner
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime, nickle dime
|
| It’s such a long road that we travel
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime, nickle dime
|
| Sacajawea is gettin' meaner
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime, nickle dime
|
| It’s such a long road that we travel
|
| Nickle dime, nickle dime |