| For fifteen years I’ve played a waiting game
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| I’ve suffered like they do in Russian plays
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| But if what’s in store is really what they claim
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| I must admit that suffering really pays
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| For fifteen years I’ve been just like a prisoner in a cell
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| For fifteen years my life has been just — awful
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| From one to four was such a bore I remember how I hated having all those people
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| paw all over me and talk baby talk, they’d say goo-goo, isn’t she cunning.
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| Poor dear, she has her father’s nose, ah-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a.
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| The years from five to eight I hate, I’ve grown into a very unattractive child
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| and consequently was utterly and completely ignored. |
| But I didn’t really mind,
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| I had a book of Mother Goose and Mother Goose is pretty hot stuff when you’re
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| five years old
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| At nine I had the measles so that didn’t count. |
| At ten I’d reached the
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| performing stage and at the drop of a hat mother would call me in and have me
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| sing The Rosary for her guests. |
| I never will forget how papa used to squirm
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| when I hit that high note
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| From eleven to thirteen I’d rather not speak of. |
| It was bad enough having Jimmy
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| Doogan pull my hair in school but it was positively humiliating to have my own
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| mother refer to me as her dear little ugly duckling
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| At fourteen I had my first taste of romance. |
| It was at a party at dancing
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| school and he was younger than I was, shorter than I was. |
| Oh but he had a
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| wonderful name — Archibold. |
| And he really like me too, he really did but I had
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| to go and spoil it all. |
| I asked him right out if he’d be my best beau.
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| That was the last I ever saw of him
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| By now I was fifteen and pretty miserable. |
| Mother refused to let me wear any
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| lipstick or rouge and I went around looking as pale as death. |
| It was then that
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| I decided to join the monastary. |
| And I would have too, if it hadn’t been for
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| Bing Crosby. |
| I was afraid they wouldn’thave any radios in monastaries.
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| So, I devoted my fifteenth year to Kraft cheese
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| But now it’s a different story, I can brush away the tears
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| And lau-augh at those awful fifteen years — For now I’m …
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| Sweet Sixteen and I’ve got my first long dress
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| I can even have a date one night a week
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| I can paint my lips a little and rouge my cheeks
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| I’m sweet sixteen but I really must confess
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| Although this grown up life isn’t simple
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| I wouldn’t change places with Shirley Temple
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| Gee it’s great to be just as free as the birds — above me
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| I’m a Juliet out to get a Romeo to love me
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| I ask you, please forget that I was an in-between
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| I mean my flags unfurled, I’m a woman of the world
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| I’m sweet sixteen… |