| Come me little son
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| And I will tell you what we’ll do
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| Undress yourself and get into bed
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| And a tale I’ll tell to you
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| It’s all about your daddy
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| He’s a man you seldom see
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| For he’s have to roam
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| Far away from home
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| Away from you and me
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| Remember laddie he’s still your dad
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| Though he’s working far away
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| In the cold and heat all the hours of the week
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| On England’s motorway
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| Now when you fall
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| And hurt yourself
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| And get a feeling bad
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| It isn’t any good to go running for your dad
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| For the only time since you were born
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| He’s had to spend with you
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| He was out of a job
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| And he hadn’t a bob
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| He was signing on the brew
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| Remember laddie he’s still your dad
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| Though he’s working far away
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| In the cold and heat all the hours of the week
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| On England’s motorway
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| Sure we’d like your Daddy here
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| Yes, sure it would be fine
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| To have him working nearer home
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| And to see him all the time
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| But beggars can’t be choosers
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| And we’ll have to bear our load
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| For we need the money your daddy earns
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| By working on the road
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| Remember laddie he’s still your dad
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| And he’s soon be home to stay
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| For a week or two with me and you
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| When he’s built the motorway |