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In Memory |
© Michael Peter Smith

Every night about a quarter to six
Shadows fall and I recall Tom Mix
He was tall in the saddle
He knew all them western tricks
Straight shooter
Rootin' tooter
Tom Mix

Didn't you love to hear his
Spurs ajingle down that radio street
You could tell it was Tom
By the rhythm of his feet
He was tall in the saddle
The one you wanted around when you were in a fix
Rodeo rider
San Juan fighter
Tom Mix

There was a Tom Mix decoder ring
And you could send away
Only twelve boxtops
I ate Ralston all day
I was tall in the saddle
Allowin' six to eight weeks
Because with just a little practice
We could beat the Axis
Me and Tom Mix

All those folks there at Checkerboard Square
You know they love you Tom although you ain't here
You were tall in the saddle
And when you rode out to get your kicks
Who could diss ya
Sure do miss ya
Tom Mix

I met Wash ridin' into town
He said woe is me old Tom is gone
And wasn't he tall in the saddle
And didn't you dig him in them silent flicks
He had that steely gaze
The man from Driftwood PA
Tom Mix

Every night at 5:45
I get the Tom Mix Blues and that ain't no jive
He was tall in the saddle
Got me hooked on Wheat Chex
Cool cat
Great hat
Tom Mix

Way out west where dogies get roped and tied
I thought I saw Tom wavin' to me 'cross the great divide
I got me a lasso from El Paso
Gonna practice on a cactus
I'll be a beboppin' buckaroo
Soon as I learn to ride
I'm splittin' from Orange, New Jersey
I'm leavin' a note to my mom
Adios mamacita headin' west with Tom

Every night about a quarter to six...

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Recorded on: Live at Dark-Thirty, Love Letter on a Fish

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