| I wouldn’t want to be a chimney sweep,
|
| all black from head to foot
|
| from climbing in them chimneys
|
| and cleaning out that soot
|
| with a broom and ladder and nail
|
| the darkened walls i scale
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| and far. |
| and high.
|
| I see a patch of sky
|
| I’d rather be the gypsy
|
| who’s camped at the edge of town
|
| the one who has the dancing bear
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| that follows him around
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| and he lifts his big foot up puts his big foot down
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| then bows. |
| then twirls.
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| then dances round and round
|
| i found i was a cabin boy
|
| last night as i did dream
|
| bound aboard a magic ship
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| for a land i’d never seen
|
| and the moon she filled our sails
|
| and the stars they steered our course
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| and on. |
| our bow.
|
| there was a golden horse
|
| the queen eats fruit and candy
|
| the bishop nuts and cheese
|
| and when i am a grown man
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| i’ll taste just what i please
|
| the honey from the bee
|
| the shellfish from the sea
|
| the earth, the wind, a girl
|
| someone to share these things with me I wouldn’t want to be a chimney sweep,
|
| all black from head to foot
|
| from climbing in them chimneys
|
| and cleaning out that soot
|
| I’d rather be the gypsy
|
| who’s camped at the edge of town
|
| the one who has the dancing bear
|
| that follows him around |