| Everyone knows him as old folks
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| Like the seasons he comes and he’ll go
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| Just as free as a bird and as good as his word
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| That’s why everybody loves him so
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| Always leaving his spoon in his coffee
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| Tucks his napkin up under his chin
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| And his own corn cob pipe is so mellow, hits right
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| But you needn’t be ashamed of him
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| In the evenings after supper
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| What stories he tells
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| How he held his speech at Gettysburg for Lincoln that day
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| You know I know that one so well
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| One thing we don’t know about old folks
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| Did he fight for the blue or the gray?
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| But he’s so democratic and so diplomatic
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| We always let him have his way
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| In the evenings after supper
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| What stories he tells
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| How he held his speech at Gettysburg for Lincoln that day
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| Yes, I know that one so well
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| Some day there will be no more old folks
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| What a lonely old world this will be
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| Children’s voices at play will be still fonding
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| The day they take old folks away |