| I know a millionaire
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| Who’s burdened down with care;
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| A load is on his mind.
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| He’s thinking of the day
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| When he must pass away
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| And leave his wealth behind.
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| I haven’t any gold
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| To leave when I grow old;
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| Somehow it passed me by.
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| I’m very poor, but still
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| I’ll leave a precious will
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| When I must say goodbye.
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| I’ll leave the sunshine to the flowers,
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| I’ll leave the springtime to the trees;
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| And to the old folks I’ll leave the mem’ries
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| Of a baby upon their knees.
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| I’ll leave the nighttime to the dreamers,
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| I’ll leave the songbirds to the blind;
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| I’ll leave the moon above
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| To those in love
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| When I leave the world behind,
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| When I leave the world behind.
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| To ev’ry wrinkled face
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| I’ll leave a fireplace
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| To paint their fav’rite scene:
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| Within the golden rays
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| Scenes of their childhood days
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| When they were sweet sixteen.
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| I’ll leave them each a song
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| To sing the whole day long
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| As toward the end they plod.
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| To ev’ry broken heart
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| With sorrow torn apart
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| I’ll leave the love of God.
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| I’ll leave the sunshine to the flowers,
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| I’ll leave the springtime to the trees;
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| And to the old folks I’ll leave the mem’ries
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| Of a baby upon their knees.
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| I’ll leave the nighttime to the dreamers,
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| I’ll leave the songbirds to the blind;
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| I’ll leave the moon above
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| To those in love
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| When I leave the world behind,
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| When I leave the world behind. |