| All over Italy they know his concertina
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| Poppa Piccolino, Poppa Piccolino
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| He plays so prettily to every signorina
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| Poppa Piccolino from sunny Italy
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| Oh listen to the music I hear
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| Oh. |
| Poppa Piccolino is near
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| To win a smile or maybe a tear
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| Before travelling on
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| A vagabond who wanders along
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| A millionaire, but only in song
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| As though the world
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| Might really belong to him
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| This fellow plays a melody so mellow
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| That everyone keeps shouting «Bello, Bello»
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| All over Italy they know his concertina
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| Poppa Piccolino, Poppa Piccolino
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| He plays so prettily to every signorina
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| Poppa Piccolino from sunny Italy
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| No matter what the calendars show
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| It can’t be spring, and I ought to know
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| Until I hear him singing «'allo, 'allo I’m here again»
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| A flower in his battered old hat
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| And a smile for every doggie and cat
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| And children get the friendliest pat of all
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| I’ll give his name so if you ever meet him
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| Then you will know exactly how to greet him
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| All over Italy they know his concertina
|
| Poppa Piccolino, Poppa Piccolino
|
| He plays so prettily to every signorina
|
| Poppa Piccolino from sunny Italy
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| Everybody loves Poppa Piccolino. |
| He has the cutest little monkey to
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| Collect the lira. |
| But one day Poppa Piccolino was very sad. |
| He lost
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| His concertina, and he couldn’t find it anywhere, and there was no
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| Music, and everyone was very unhappy. |
| But the little monkey found it
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| For him and gave it back to Poppa Piccolino, and now everybody is
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| Happy again
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| All over Italy they know his concertina
|
| Poppa Piccolino, Poppa Piccolino
|
| He plays so prettily to every signorina
|
| Poppa Piccolino from sunny Italy
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| Sunny Italy, Sunny Italy |