| Jenny you don’t know the nights i hide
|
| Below a second story room
|
| To whistle you down
|
| The man who’s let to divvy up Time is a miser
|
| He’s got a silver coin
|
| Only lets it shine for hours
|
| While you sleep it away
|
| There’s one rare and odd style of living
|
| Part only known to the everybody jenny
|
| A comical where’s the end parade
|
| Of the sort people here would think unusual
|
| Jenny
|
| Tonight upon the mock brine of a luna sea
|
| Far off we sail on to back o’the moon
|
| Jenny
|
| Jenny you don’t know the days i’ve tried
|
| Telling backyard tales
|
| So to maybe amuse
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| O your mood is never giddy
|
| If you smile i’m delighted
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| But you’d rather pout
|
| Such a lazy child
|
| You dare fold your arms
|
| Tisk and say that i lie
|
| There’s one rare and odd style of thinking
|
| Part only known to the everybody jenny
|
| The small step and giant leap takers
|
| Got the head start in the race toward it Jenny
|
| Tonight upon the mock brine of a luna sea
|
| Far off we sail on to the back o’the moon
|
| That was a sigh
|
| But not meant to envy you
|
| When your age was mine
|
| Some things were sworn true
|
| Morning would come
|
| And calendar pages had
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| New printed seasons on Their opposite sides
|
| Jenny
|
| Jenny you don’t know the nights i hide
|
| Below a second story room
|
| To whistle you down
|
| O the man who’s let to divvy up Time is a miser
|
| He’s got a silver coin
|
| Lets it shine for hours
|
| While you sleep it away
|
| There’s one rare and odd style of living
|
| Part only known to the everybody jenny
|
| Out of tin ships jump the bubble head boys
|
| To push their flags into powdered soils and cry
|
| No second placers
|
| No smart looking geese in bonnets
|
| Dance with pigs in high button trousers
|
| No milk pail for the farmer’s daughter
|
| No merry towns of sweet walled houses
|
| Here i’ve found
|
| Back o’the moon
|
| Not here
|
| I’ve found
|
| Back o’the moon |