| It’s a rocky road down Ida’s farm
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| Past the sticks and stones
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| And names that harm
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| They don’t like her rooster crowing
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| Cows and flies and weeds are a growing
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| It’s a rocky road
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| Down Ida’s farm
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| It’s a rocky road
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| Down Bankie’s dune
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| Made of memories and bits of moon
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| Here they come with a zillion dollars
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| Crowds of tourists soon to follow
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| It’s a rocky road
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| Down Bankie’s dune
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| From the hills of Pennsylvania
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| She fights to hold her ground
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| To the white sands of Anguilla
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| He still hears the sound
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| Of music made for no reason at all
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| It’s a rocky road
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| Down 9th Avenue
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| Past the sea of cars
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| And fields of fume
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| That old guitar is never played
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| Full of songs never made
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| It’s a rocky road
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| Down 9th Avenue
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| It’s a rocky road |