| Like a high stepping pony strutting and prancing
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| Ah she’s so full of life
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| Sparkling with tiny red roses
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| Let there be music to please her
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| Let it be sunbright to light up her day
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| Let the moon light her night
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| And fill her with deep silent sleepiness
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| If I were a small bird so tiny
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| I’d hide in her hair just to be near her
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| To hear her sweet voice
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| And feel her sweet body beside me And if I were a high lord with riches
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| I’d clothe her in satin from India’s far highlands
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| I would shoe her in gold
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| Then invite her to sit at my table
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| Step out young lady a-dancing
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| To the sound of sweet music so gaily come singing
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| For your beauty so rare
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| Is as fresh as a sweet Sunday morning |