| On the lake, the deep forbidden lake,
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| The old boats go gliding by,
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| And the leaves are falling from the trees
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| And landing on the logs and I See the turtles heading for the bog
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| And falling off the log.
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| They make the water splash,
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| And feeling no backlash,
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| They climb the happy banks.
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| On the boats, the old and creaky boats,
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| The shoreline goes gliding by,
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| And the wind, there was a dying breeze,
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| Is making the banners fly.
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| See the colors, floating in the sky,
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| The pride of the captain’s eye,
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| As he glides
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| His slender craft inside
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| And opens up the door.
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| On the coast, the long and tempting coast,
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| The cards on the table lie,
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| And a speech, so eloquent in reach,
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| Was made by a passerby,
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| Passing by the way between
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| Here and left behind.
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| And it ripples through the crowds
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| Who run and cast their doubts
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| In the deep forbidden lake.
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| Yes, it echoes through the crowds
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| Who run and cast their doubts
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| In the deep forbidden lake. |