| Never been to school
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| I’ve never been to college
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| Sooner be dead than stuff me head
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| With a load of useless knowledge
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| I never couldn’t see
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| No point in history
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| 'Cause I weren’t there
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| So I don’t care
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| So don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| That’s my philosophy
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| When folks do cuss
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| And start a fuss
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| Young Sarah Jones one day
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| Got in the family way
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| Her father come with a girt big gun
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| Said, «Ee, you’ll have to pay,»
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| He chased I up a tree
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| I hollered, «Leave I be
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| I happen to know 'twere old Fred Snow
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| So don’t blame I, blame 'ee.»
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| That’s my philosophy
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| When folks do swear
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| And tear their hair
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| I took a ride one night
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| A PC hove in sight
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| He made it up
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| Because I’d got no brakes, no bell, no light
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| «I'll sling the book at 'ee,»
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| That copper said with glee
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| I said, «Sling all you like, 'tis your dad’s bike
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| So don’t tell I, tell 'ee.»
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| That’s my philosophy
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| When folks do fuss
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| And start to cuss
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee |
| I got a lift to town
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| From good old farmer Brown
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| In a ten tonne truck with a load o' muck
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| When he set us down
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| A drink we did agree
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| It would be good for we
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| The barmaid Rose, she held her nose
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| I said, «Don't smell I, smell 'ee.»
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| That’s my philosophy
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| When folks do swear
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| And tear their hair
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| Don’t tell I, tell 'ee
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| Oh, ah, then, clever stuff
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| The vicar came along
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| He said, «You know 'tis wrong
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| You gets tight on a Friday night.»
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| I answered 'ee real strong
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| «Now, parson, you’ll agree
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| The Lord created me
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| And I’m afraid 'tis how I’m made
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| So, don’t tell I, tell 'ee.»
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| Yeah |