| Tall and tan and young and handsome
|
| The boy from Ipanema goes walking
|
| And when he passes
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| Each girl he passes goes — ah
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| When he walks
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| He’s like a samba
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| That swings so cool and sways so gentle
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| That when he passes each girl
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| He passes goes — ah
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| Ooh, but I watch him so sadly
|
| How can I tell him I love him
|
| Yes I would give my heart gladly
|
| But each day when he walks to the sea
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| He looks straight ahead, not at me
|
| Tall, and tan, and young and handsome
|
| The boy from Ipanema goes walking
|
| And when he passes me, I smile
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| Oh, I watch him so sadly
|
| Can not tell him I love him
|
| I would give my heart gladly
|
| But each day when he walks to the sea
|
| He looks straight ahead, not at me
|
| Tall, and tan, and young and handsome
|
| The boy from Ipanema goes walking
|
| And when he passes me, I smile
|
| He so cool and calm and so collected
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| Makes a girl feel a bit neglected
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| That boy from Ipanema doesn’t see |