| On a Paris boulevarde,
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| I picked up a postal card
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| Someone had forgotten to mail;
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| Seems as though some tourist had
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| Meant for it to reach her dad,
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| For it told a typical tale!
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| Naturally I read what she wrote,
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| This is what she said, and I quote;
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| I came to Paris to buy me a gown,
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| To Paris, to Paris, and boy what a town!
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| The lights were sparkling, the music was gay,
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| I bought me my gown and decided to stay!
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| Now poppa don’t preach to me, preach to me, poppa don’t preach to me,
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| Let my heart break while it’s young!
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| Now poppa don’t preach to me, preach to me, poppa don’t preach to me,
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| Let me fling till my fling is flung!
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| I danced in Paris last night with Pierre,
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| That «x» marks my room, but I’m never up there!
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| I strolled through Paris today with my niece,
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| The «Rue De La Paix» means «The Street Of The Peace».
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| I’m here in Paris since early May,
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| My gown got all worn out but I’m still okay!
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| I’m made for Paris, I’m finding it out,
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| I still have no pass but my future’s in doubt!
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| Now poppa don’t preach to me, preach to me, poppa don’t preach to me,
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| Let my heart break, let it roam!
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| Now poppa don’t preach to me, preach to me, poppa don’t preach to me,
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| I’ll never, no I’ll never come home!
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| No poppa, don’t preach to me!
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| And don’t make some nonsense speech to me!
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| Aw come on baby, don’t bug me!
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| I’ll never, never come home! |