| Birth comes to us all
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| Everybody knows every child must grow
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| And growth comes to us all
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| SIx pounds, seven ounces, not too big at all
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| You got no say in what you wear
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| Or even what you’re called
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| And names come to us all
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| You don’t know why you pull your ear
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| You seen your Daddy do it
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| And Grandpa did the same old thing
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| And your own will pursue it
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| And ways come to us all
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| They pushed the spinach down your mouth
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| And don’t forget the 'taters
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| And when you’ve made a mess of things
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| They never tell you later
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| They could be singing waiters
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| Isn’t it a shame you never took the tim
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| To thank the real Santa Claus
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| And when you found it out
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| To old to kiss his mouth
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| And pain coms to us all
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| In nasty cuts and bruises
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| And doctors give you medicines
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| But Mama sees you throughs it
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| And love comes to us all
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| And growth comes to us all
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| And ways come to us all
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| And names come to us all
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| And birth comes to us all |