| I might wear horn-rimmed glasses
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| And my hair has a tinge of gray
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| But don’t judge a book by its cover
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| I’ve heard some folks say
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| I may be in retirement
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| On Social Security
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| But if there’s honey in that hive
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| There’s a sting in this ole bee
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| I may not buzz as often
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| Or as loud as I used to do
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| But I’d love a taste of that nectar
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| From a pretty little flower like you
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| So remember girl, when you’re flirtin' around
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| If you shine those eyes on me
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| If there’s honey in that hive
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| There’s a sting in this ole bee
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| I can still do things like I used to do
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| Back when I was young
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| I can still jump just as high
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| Just can’t stay up as long
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| So why don’t you make a beeline
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| To enjoy my company?
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| If there’s honey in that hive
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| There’s a sting in this ole bee
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| Now, I may not buzz as often
|
| Or as loud as I used to do
|
| But I’d love a taste of that nectar
|
| From a pretty little flower like you
|
| So remember girl, when you’re flirtin' around
|
| If you shine those eyes on me
|
| If there’s honey in that hive
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| There’s a sting in this ole bee
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| Now, if there’s honey in that hive
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| There’s a sting in this ole bee |