| Last night in my dreams
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| I was stationed forever
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| On a far little rock in the midst of the sea
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| My one chance in life was a ceaseless endeavour
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| To sweep off the waves as they swept over me
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| All life is a toil, and love is a trouble
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| Beauty will fade and riches will flee
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| Pleasures they dwindle and price is the double
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| And nothing is as nothing should be
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| There’s too much of worrying
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| That goes to the bonnet
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| There’s too much of ironing that goes to the shirt
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| There’s nothing that pays for the time you waste on it
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| There’s nothing that lasts but the trouble of dirt
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| All life is a toil, and love is a trouble
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| Beauty will fade and riches will flee
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| Pleasures they dwindle and price is the double
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| And nothing is as nothing should be
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| In March it’s the mud it’s the slush in December
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| The midsummer breeze is loaded with dust
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| In Fall the leaves litter, a muddy September
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| Wallpaper rots and candlesticks rot
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| All life is a toil, and love is a trouble
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| Beauty will fade and riches will flee
|
| Pleasures they dwindle and price is the double
|
| And nothing is as nothing should be
|
| All life is a toil, and love is a trouble
|
| Beauty will fade and riches will flee
|
| Pleasures they dwindle and price is the double
|
| And nothing is as nothing should be
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| There’s nothing is as nothing should be |