| I was once a delicate child,
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| Watched the other kids run wild,
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| While they played with guns and ropes,
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| My only toys were stethoscopes;
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| I was a chronic, «Now how’ve you been?»
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| Then like a tonic, you blew in;
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| You’re the cure for what ails me, and you do me good!
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| Down with an apple every day,
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| Down with the ultraviolet ray,
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| You’re the cure for what ails me, and you do me good!
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| You can go starve a fever,
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| You can feed a cold,
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| But I don’t fear fever and I can’t get cold,
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| You’re my pick-up kabish,
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| You’re my Arrowhead Springs,
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| You’re my Battle Creek, Mich!
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| I was a weakie, meekie lamb,
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| Now I can shoulder Boulder Dam,
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| Your smile never fails me, hi-ho, lady, knock on wood,
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| You’re the cure for what ails me, and you do me good! |