| Most of the better bred
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| Woollen toys have gone to bed
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| And the teddy bear is a-sleeping in the cupboard
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| And the wooden soldiers all
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| And the rubber bouncing ball
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| Are list’ning to the tales of mother Hubbard
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| But the fairy lights are dark
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| On the Christmas tree as restlessly
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| I stand here forgotten and alone
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| I’ve been too long on the floor
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| I can’t stay here any more
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| So Jenny won’t you please take me home
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| Oh the statues that I see
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| Are made out of blackest ivory
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| But I pass them by never guessing of their meaning
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| And a million voices cry
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| As I walk across the sky
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| Though it’s restless here, why it’s only in-betweening
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| For the journey that I’m on
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| Is incomplete so to my feet
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| I must rise now and travel on alone
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| Ah, but if you’ve got some time to spend
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| In between now and the end
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| Oh Jenny won’t you please take me home
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| Now almost every word that I’ve said that you have heard
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| Hides another thought left unspoken
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| And if I may not reach it through the gutter of my speech
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| Then it best be left unsaid than lie unbroken
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| And if you wish to see, then from time to time
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| Look in my eyes
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| Oh the gold is not far beneath the stone
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| If that will not say, it doesn’t matter anyway
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| Jenny won’t you please take me home |