| When you wear a cloudy collar and a shirt that isn’t white
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| And you cannot sleep for thinking how you’ll reach to-morrow night
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| You may be a man of sorrows, and on speaking terms with Care
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| But as yet you’re unacquainted with the Demon of Despair
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| For I rather think that nothing heaps the trouble on your mind
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| Like the knowledge that your trousers badly need a patch behind
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| You are nonetheless a hero if you elevate your chin
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| When you feel the pavement wearing through the leather, sock, and skin
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| You are rather more heroic than are ordinary folk
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| If you scorn to fish for pity under cover of a joke
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| You will face the doubtful glances of people that you know
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| But of course you’re bound to face them when your pants begin to go
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| Though the present and the future may be anything but bright
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| Oh it’s best to tell the fellows that you’re getting on all right
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| And a man prefers to say it, it’s a manly lie to tell
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| For the folk may be persuaded that you’re doing very well
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| But it’s hard to be a hero, and it’s hard to wear a grin
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| When your most important garment is in places very thin
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| Get some sympathy and comfort from the chum who knows you best
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| Then your sorrows won’t run over in the presence of the rest
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| There’s a mate that you can go to when you feel inclined to whine
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| He’ll declare your clothes are tidy, and he’ll say: «Just look at mine!»
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| Though they may be all over he will say it doesn’t shown
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| And he’ll swear it can’t be noticed when your pants begin to go
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| Brother mine, and of misfortune
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| Times are hard, but do not fret
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| Keep your courage up and struggle
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| And we’ll laugh at these things yet
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| Though there is no corn in Egypt, surely Africa has some
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| Keep your smile in working order for the better days to come
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| And we shall often laugh together at the hard times that we know
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| And get measured by the tailor when our pants begin to go
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| We shall often laugh together at the hard times that we know
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| And get measured by the tailor when our pants begin to go |