Oh, the Deadwood stage is a-rolling on over the plains
With the curtains flappin' and the driver a-snappin' the reins
A beautiful sky, a wonderful day
Whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away

Oh, the Deadwood stage is a-headin' on over the hills
Where the Injun arrows are thicker than porcupine quills
Dangerous land, no time to delay
So, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away

We're headed straight for town
Loaded down with a fancy cargo
Care of Wells & Fargo, Illinois, boy

Oh, the Deadwood stage is a-comin' on over the crest
Like a homing-pigeon that's a-hankerin' after its nest
Twenty-three miles we've covered today
So, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away

The wheels go turning round, homeward-bound
Can't you hear them hummin'
Happy times are comin' for to stay, hey

We'll be home tonight by the light of the silvery moon
And my heart's a-thumpin' like a mandolin a-plunkin' a tune
When I get home, I'm fixin' to stay
So, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away
Whip-crack away, whip-crack-away, whip-crack-away

(Here they be, here they be, how's about a welcome)
(A peaceful sorta welcome for the gang) Bang! (=gunshot)

Oh, the Deadwood stage is finally home again
(Well, 'scuse my stammerin', if it ain't Calamity Jane)
(Hiya Calam, what ya' bring us today)
(New rubber boots, ten-dollar suits)
(Things to crochet)

Beads that sparkle like a prism
Snake oil for your rheumatism
Calico and gingham for the girls
Gumdrops made up in Chicargy
Gum drops just a trifle soggy
And genuine string of artificial pearls
Here's a hat from Cincinatti
Same as Adelina Patti
Wore in every famous concert hall
Cast your eye on Dr Boer's patent-pending hair-restorer
Guaranteed to grow hair on a billiard ball

Introducing Henry Miller
Just as busy as a fizzy sasparilla
Ain't a showman any smarter operates the Golden Garter
When the cream of Deadwood City comes to dine
And I'm glad to say he's a friend of mine
Hi Joe, say, where d'ya get them fancy clothes
I know, off some fella's laundry line
Hi Beau, aren't you a prairie rose
Smellin' like a watermelon vine
Here's a man the sheriff watches
On his gun there's more than twenty-seven notches
On the draw there's no one faster and you're flirting with disaster
When Bill Hickok's reputation you malign
And I'm glad to say he's a very good friend of a friend of mine

Oh, my throat's as dry as a desert thistle in May
In the Golden Garter, gonna wet my whistle today
Last to the bar's a three-legged crow
Set 'em up Joe, set 'em up Joe, set 'em up Joe
(Drinks on the house, drinks on the house)
Set 'em up Joe

Writer : FAIN, SAMMY / WEBSTER, PAUL FRANCIS
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.