Write this down
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Her telephone rang bout a quarter to nine
She heard his voice on the other end of the line
She wondered what was wrong this time
She never knew what his calls might bring
With a cowboy like him it could be anything
And she always expected the worst in the back of her mind
He said, "It's cold out here and I'm all alone
I didn't make the short go again, and I'm comin home
I never got a chance to write or call
And I know this rodeo's been hard on us all
But I'll be home soon and honey is there somethin wrong"
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