| It was late in the evenin', just a few of us pickin'
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| But the lady she played so easy and fine
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| And the chords that she strummed were so tastefully clever
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| They planted this song in my mind
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| 'Cause there’s somethin' so feminine about a mandolin
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| The way that they feel, the way that they ring
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| Just to see slender fingers, movin' so quickly
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| Made this boy want to sing
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| And when I get older and I have a daughter
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| I’ll teach her to sing and play her my songs
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| And I’ll tell her some stories I can barely remember
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| And hope that she will sing along
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| And maybe one day she’ll take a fancy to pickin'
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| 'Cause when that bug bites you, you live with the sting
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| And if she could just strum a few simple measures
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| She could make some young man sing
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| 'Cause there’s somethin' so feminine about a mandolin
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| Way that they feel, the way that they ring
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| And that evenin' in a pasture somewhere near Austin
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| That mandolin made me sing
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| Her mandolin made me sing |