| Let me tell you a little story 'bout the way things
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| used to be,
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| my Dad took me to Sydney back in 1943
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| He said «Son you’re not wearing those, they’d call us
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| bush galoots,
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| if you went out and walked about in those high-heeled
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| riding boots.»
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| But I stand back and laugh today at the way that times
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| have changed,
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| so many town-folk dressed as if they just stepped off
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| the range,
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| but that day back in '43 I could not pick and choose,
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| the day my old man made me wear a pair of lace up
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| shoes.
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| We went out to Regal Zonophone on Parramatta Road
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| we walked along Columbia Lane where some famous feet
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| have strode,
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| but the man in charge was not impressed, «Don't call us
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| we’ll call you.»
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| And to make things worse my feet still hurt from those
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| damned new lace-up shoes.
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| And there were soldiers everywhere in town six o’clock
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| was closing time,
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| and if you didn’t tip everywhere you went the Yanks won
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| all the time,
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| I was pushed along as I dreamed of home where the skies
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| were clean and blue,
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| far away from this rat race in town and big mobs with
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| lace-up shoes.
|
| But I stand back and laugh today at the way that times
|
| have changed,
|
| so many town-folk dressed as if they just stepped off
|
| the range,
|
| but that day back in '43 I could not pick and choose,
|
| the day my old man made me wear a pair of lace-up
|
| shoes.
|
| Here we go.
|
| Now as I look back on the singing track since 1943,
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| the harder I worked, you know old mate, the luckier I
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| seemed to be,
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| but I’ve always sung of the old home run in the best
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| way that I knew,
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| but I still feel bad when I think of Dad and those
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| damned new lace-up shoes.
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| Yeah I stand back and laugh today at the way that times
|
| have changed,
|
| so many town-folk dressed as if they just stepped off
|
| the range,
|
| I’ve lived my life with few regrets, the same again I’d
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| choose,
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| and be flat as a tack in this old felt hat with my pair
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| of Williams shoes. |