(Composição: Michael Martin Murphey) When the train pulled into the station Rolled up his sleeves, rosined up his bow Fiddle upside down, orange blossom special 'Cause if you want to make a living you got to put on a good show When he'd smell the smoke and the cinders Slick back his hair, opened up his case Play Cherokee Fiddle, he'd play it for the whiskey 'Cause good whiskey never let him lose his place He was always there, playing for the miners Devil's dream was a song they understood Then he'd go out to Oklahoma and he'd wait till the trains Were running and the weather was good When he'd smell the smoke and the cinders Slick back his hair, opened up his case Play Cherokee Fiddle, he'd play it for the whiskey 'Cause good whiskey never let him lose his place Now the Indians are dressing up like cowboys And the cowboys are putting feathers and turquoise on And the music is sold by lawyers And the fools who fiddled in the middle of the station have gone Some folks say they ain't never gonna miss him Old Fiddle squealed like the engines brakes Cherokee Fiddle, he's gone forever Just like the music of the whistle that the old locomotives made So when you smell the smoke and the cinders Slick back your hair, open up your case Play the Cherokee Fiddle, play it for the whiskey 'Cause good whiskey will never let you lose your place No, good whiskey will never let you lose your place No, good whiskey will never let you lose your place
