| The legs of maddox kitchen tables
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| My whole life I twisted on a lathe
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| In a foreman’s torrent
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| My first english was
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| «faster boy if you want your pay»
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| Barking commands
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| Loud and simple
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| We could all obey
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| Then i was forever pulling slivers
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| Rubbed the sawdust always
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| Deeper in my eye
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| Varnish vapor that could linger
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| On my skin
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| It held tight
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| The whine of spinning blades
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| Still echoes to bother my sleep at night
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| See that oxen
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| Stamped dead center
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| On the letter head of the company mail
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| For decades, a spitting image
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| Of the animal, I portrayed
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| At maddox table a yoke was carved
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| For my neck
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| Sun through the window oil spattered
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| And in mason jars
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| Tricked plenty seeds to thrive
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| The standing joke
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| Around the shop
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| Was with my green thumb
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| Anything’d grow
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| My part was to laugh
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| Show an ornery jig had
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| Cut it at the knuckle bone
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| See that oxen
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| Trade mark burned
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| Into every stick of furniture
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| From horn to tail
|
| For decades, a spitting image
|
| Of the animal, I portrayed
|
| At maddox table a yoke was carved
|
| For my neck
|
| Was tailor made
|
| Oh, my Dolly was a weak
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| Not a burdened girl
|
| Treat her to a piece of vaudeville
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| A Wintergarden moving picture show
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| Bemus Point on July Sundays
|
| By trolley we’d go
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| To your benefit we’ll strike a bargain
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| With the waving fist of a union man
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| Not just for
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| Smokes
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| Spirits
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| Candy and cologne
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| But for
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| Automobile keys
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| Cash in the bank
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| And the deed
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| On a place called home |