| The wind is in from Africa
|
| Last night I couldn’t sleep
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| Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave here, Carey
|
| But it’s really not my home
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| My fingernails are filthy
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| I got beach tar on my feet
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| And I miss my clean white linen
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| And my fancy french cologne
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| Oh Carey get out your cane
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| And I’ll put on some silver
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| Oh you’re a mean old daddy
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| But I like you fine
|
| Come on down to the mermaid cafe
|
| And I will buy you a bottle of wine
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| And we’ll laugh and toast to nothing
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| And smash our empty glasses down
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| Let’s have a round for these freaks and these soldiers
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| A round for these friends of mine
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| Let’s have another round for the bright red devil
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| Who keeps me in this tourist town
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| Come on, Carey, get out your cane
|
| I’ll put on some silver
|
| Oh you’re a mean old daddy, but I like you
|
| Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam
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| Or maybe I’ll go to Rome
|
| And rent me a grand piano
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| And put some flowers 'round my room
|
| But let’s not talk about fare-thee-welis now
|
| The night is a starry dome
|
| And they’re playin' that scratchy rock and roll
|
| Beneath the matalla moon
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| Come on, Carey, get out your cane
|
| I’ll put on some silver
|
| Oh you’re a mean old daddy, but I like you
|
| The wind is in from Africa
|
| Last night I couldn’t sleep
|
| Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave here
|
| But, it’s really not my home
|
| Maybe it’s been too long a time
|
| Since I was scramblin' down in the street
|
| Now they got me used to that clean white linen
|
| And that fancy french cologne
|
| Oh carey, get out your cane
|
| Ill put on my finest silver
|
| We’ll go to the mermaid cafe
|
| Have fun tonight
|
| I said, oh, you’re a mean old daddy
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| But you’re out of sight |