Gene Autry Trouble at Hermits Crossing

I'm back in the tribal again Here's a friend Abo-yero Can always find someone to catch A cenorita A sweep of pizza Her other love will sink for gas If he's insistent And she's not distant

The cenorita will confess Her gay roncero I will hear him, he don't he ask, have you yes to with a blushing bride? And they gave Ron Chiro standing by her side. If they find the promise that they have in store, they'll become little because by the store.

Back on this roncho, we now find poncho, with his subpoena by his side. She thinks he's handsome, worth any ransom, to him she's still a blushing bride. Our gay ronchero, our cobblyero, still tells the world of how they met.

He's a little kid on chair room, a cowboy arrow, that he has a thing for it. Now, him the stories that I once was told, here's a little secret that I must unfold, for they found the promise that they had in store.

Now, their count little people, by the scores, and they just went once again to melody ranch. Wishing, wishing, wishing you were in my arms once motion. Wishing you were mine forevermore. As a window, Mr. Moon, to tell me where.

Beaver, with whiskers. What do you think you're doing anyway? Pale face can josh at red skin if he wants to red skin not care.

You're trying to tell me that you are part Indian? I am one fifth-thing full-blooded Sowax Indian. But there was no havoc. No. In fact, you won't believe this, but my given Indian name is sort of like Chief Sitten Bull.

Oh, what do they call you? Chief Sandin-Pat. Okay, buddy. Since you seem to think that you know so much about Indians, tell me this. Why do they always look so sad and so serious? Well, that's easy. The white man took away his land and the white women took away his war paint.