| The French were bred to die for love
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| They delight in fighting duels
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| But I prefer a man who lives
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| And gives expensive jewels
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| A kiss on the hand may be quite continental
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| But diamonds are a girl’s best friend
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| A kiss may be grand but it won’t pay the rental
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| On your humble flat, or help you at the automat
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| Men grow cold as girls grow old
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| And we all lose our charms in the end
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| But square-cut or pear-shaped
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| These rocks don’t lose their shape
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| Diamonds are a girl’s best friend
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| …Tiffany's … Cartier…
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| Talk to me, Harry, Winston, tell me all about it!
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| There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer
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| But diamonds are a girl’s best friend
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| There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer
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| Thinks you’re awful nice
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| But get that ice or else no dice
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| He’s your guy when stocks are high
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| But beware when they start to descend
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| It’s then that those louses go back to their spouses
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| Diamonds are a girl’s best friend
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| I’ve heard of affairs that are strictly platonic
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| But diamonds are a girl’s best friend
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| And I think affairs that you must keep liaisonic
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| Are better bets if little pets get big baggettes
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| Time rolls on and youth is gone
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| And you can’t straighten up when you bend
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| But stiff back or stiff knees
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| You stand straight at Tiffany’s
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| Diamonds… Diamonds…
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| — I don’t mean rhinestones — |