| Everyone knows him as Old Folks
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| Like the seasons, he’ll come 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 that yellow cow-pie is so mellow it’s ripe
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| But you needn’t be ashamed of him
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| Every Friday he’ll go fishing, down on his favourite lake
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| But he only hooks a perch or two, the whale got away
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| Looks like we warm the steak
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| Someday there’ll be no more Old Folks
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| What a lonesome old town this will be
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| Children’s voice at play, will be still for a day
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| The day they take the Old Folks away |