| I love my boys more than I love my girl
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| Try not to show it, she knows like I knew
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| I have my father’s legs, long kissed with summer
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| Old fear of Father keeps me in Mother’s mirror
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| Sing to my boys, back to your own bed, girl
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| Cold fills the bottle, he’ll get the swaddling and my milk
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| I have my mother’s gaze, pastures and towers
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| Soft drawing him near to her down cast severe
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| Oh, Valerie, Valerie
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| Know the hand that feeds you
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| The hand that keeps you
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| The hand that owns the keys
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| Keeps you pretty
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| Don’t look to me to hold you
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| I shape and mould you
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| So you can get the ring
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| While you’re still pretty
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| Rock-a-bye boys, run along daddy’s girl
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| You’re blushing youthful dewy bloom cut from my tree
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| You’ll learn your mother’s game
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| Seal your reflection for his affection
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| Now against me, you’ll play
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| So on it goes, never to trust a girl
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| All sistren rivals to be expected in his world
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| Valerie
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| Know the hand that feeds you
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| The hand that keeps you
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| Can put you on the street
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| At least you’re pretty
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| Don’t look to me for sweetness
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| This borrowed dress holds nothing sweet |