| Folks, I know a gal named Cemetary Lize,
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| Down in Tennessee;
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| She has got a pair of mean old graveyard eyes,
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| Full of misery!
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| Every night and day,
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| You can hear her sing her blues away:
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| I’m going down to the cemetary,
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| 'Cause the world is all wrong!
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| I’m going down to the cemetary,
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| 'Cause the world is all wrong!
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| Down there with the spooks to hear 'em sing my sorrow song.
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| Got a date to see a ghost
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| By the name of Jones,
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| Got a date to see a ghost,
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| By the name of Jones,
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| Makes me feel happy to hear him rattle his bones!
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| He’s one man
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| I always know just where to find!
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| He’s one man,
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| I always know just where to find!
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| When you want true lovin', go and get the cemetary kind!
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| He ain’t no fine dresser,
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| He don’t wear nothin' but a sack;
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| Yeah, he ain’t no fine dresser,
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| He don’t wear nothin' but a sack;
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| Everytime he kisses me, that funny feeling creeps up my back! |