| In daddy’s day he walked to school
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| And lived his life by the golden rule
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| And chopped down timber for his fuel
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| In daddy’s day
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| His shoe were made by Buster Brown
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| He’d hide and roll his knickers down
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| The world was square, it wasn’t round
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| In daddy’s day
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| He’d ride the Toonerville Trolley, the Toonerville Trolley
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| Tooting on his licorice stick
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| The Toonerville Trolley, the Toonerville Trolley
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| That was how he gets his kicks
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| Oh by gee, by gosh, by golly
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| Life to him was oh so jolly
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| Dad, what happened to the Toonerville Trolley?
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| In daddy’s day they were so pure
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| No one had to take the cure
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| For being wildly insecure
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| In daddy’s day
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| They’d sit and rock and talk a bit
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| The sun would fall and they would quit
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| They went to bed and that was it
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| In daddy’s day
|
| He’d ride the Toonerville Trolley, the Toonerville Trolley
|
| Tooting on his licorice stick
|
| The Toonerville Trolley, the Toonerville Trolley
|
| That was how he gets his kicks
|
| Oh by gee, by gosh, by golly
|
| Life to him was oh so jolly
|
| Dad, what happened to the Toonerville Trolley? |