| There’s a two-lane county road in northern Jersey
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| Winding up a hill beside a lake
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| Just before the road winds to an end
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| Is Hazel’s house
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| Long white picket fence around the front yard
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| A wagon wheel someone made into a gate
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| Flagstone steps will lead you to the front door
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| Of Hazel’s house
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| And Hazel will will have seen you from the window
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| She’s waiting for you as you climb the steps
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| She says, «Thank God, we were starting to get worried
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| Come on in.»
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| It’s New Year’s and the place is overflowing
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| Cousins, aunts and uncles gather round
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| «How long has it been? |
| It’s good to see you
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| How you’ve grown.»
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| And the uncles all have one eye on the Rose Bowl
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| One by one they slink back to the den
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| Everybody else heads for the kitchen
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| You go with them
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| She always has the crumbcake at the ready
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| Today is no exception — there it is
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| The order of the universe intact
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| At Hazel’s house
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| And no one seems to know that this is heaven
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| They say we only know it by and by
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| That someday all will be revealed
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| Well, here it is:
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| There’s a two-lane county road in northern Jersey
|
| Winding up a hill beside a lake
|
| Just before the road winds to an end
|
| Hazel’s house
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| Go on in |