And now, my pretty little Pink,
I once did think
That you and I would marry,
But now I've lost all confidence
And will no longer tarry.

I'll take my knapsack on my back,
My rifle on my shoulder
And march away to New Mexico,
And there I'll be a soldier.

Where coffee grows on white oak trees,
And the rivers flow with brandy.
The Rocky Mountains are covered with snow,
And the girls are sweet as candy.

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Contributed by
<A href="mailto:[email protected]">Lowell G. McManus</a>, Leesville, Louisiana, USA
January 21, 1999