| Stone-cutters made them from stones
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| Chosen specially for you and I Who will live inside
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| The mountaineers gathered timber piled high
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| In which to take along
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| Travelling many miles knowing they’d get here
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| When they got here all exhausted
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| On the roof leaks they got started
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| And now when the rain comes we can be thankful
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| When the mountaineers saw that everything fit
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| They were glad and so they took off
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| Thought we were due for a change
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| Or two around this place
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| When they got back they’re all mixed up With no one to stay with
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| The village used to be all one really needs
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| Now it’s filled with hundreds and hundreds of chemicals
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| That mostly surround you, you wish to flee
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| But it’s not like you so listen to me listen to me Oh and when the morning comes
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| We will step outside
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| We will not find another man in sight
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| We like the newness the newness of all
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| That has grown in our garden
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| Struggling for so long
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| Whenever I was a child
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| I wonder what if my name had changed
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| Into something more productive
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| Like Roscoe been born in 1891
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| Waiting with my aunt Rosaline
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| Thought we were due for a change
|
| Or two around this place
|
| When they got back they’re all mixed up With no one to stay with
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| 1891 they roamed around and foraged
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| They made their house from cedars
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| They made their house from stone
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| Well they’re a little like you
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| And they’re a little like me We have all we need
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| Thought we were due for a change
|
| Or two around this place
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| This place
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| This place
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| When they got back they’re all mixed up With no one to stay with
|
| When they got back they’re all mixed up With no one to stay with |