| The family circle gather round from very far and near
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| To pass around the same remarks they passed away last year
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| The little girl you dangle on your knee without mishap
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| Stirs something in your memory
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| And something in your lap
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| But it’s a living
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| This is the life
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| For the world and his wife
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| The world and his wife
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| The kissing cousins slip outside to cuddle and confess
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| She says sweet nothing at all it’s much more of a mess
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| The conversation melts like chocolate down their open jaws
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| As the juniper berry slips down just like last night’s drawers
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| To tell the truth our Mum ran off with someone else father
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| Went for two weeks holiday in taramasalata
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| Daddy went out with the rubbish and he kept on walking
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| Between Mum and the walls
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| God only knows who does the talking
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| But later on in the evening through the tears and folder
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| Come the sentimental feelings for the lure of vitriol
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| Longing thoughts go hankering for the old home overseas
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| With a blindfold and a national anthem
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| Sung in different keys |