| He trembles in the bitter wind
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| Until it’s time for us to speak
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| Whilst others here are sleeping sound
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| I’ll slip away by floorboard creak
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| Upon the hill he’ll hear my secrets
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| Shock the colours to bleach inside
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| Whilst others there are sleeping sound
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| Just we two will confide
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| Listen to his body moan
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| Make a wish and send us home
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| To spin the gold and silver stitches
|
| We can turn his rags to riches
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| With frosty Jack on fingernail
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| Thro' shoe black smile he’ll tell-a-tale
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| Come whisper thro' your lips of straw
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| A moment torn forever more
|
| Listen to his body groan
|
| Make a wish and send us home
|
| To spin the gold and silver stitches
|
| We can turn his rags to riches
|
| My so-called friends say you’re not alive
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| I’ll bake their bones for telling lies
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| Then pull the pastry from the pie
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| And pour the gravy in their eye
|
| Listen to his body moan
|
| Make a wish and send us home
|
| To spin the gold and silver stitches
|
| We can turn his rags to riches |