| Sticks and stones will break my bones, but I always will be true
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| And when your mama’s dead and gone, I’ll sing this lullaby just for you
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| And what becomes of all the little boys who never comb their hair?
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| They’re lined up all around the block on the nickel over there
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| So better bring a bucket, there’s a hole in the pail
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| And if you don’t get my letter then you’ll know that I’m in jail
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| And what becomes of all the little boys who never say their prayers?
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| They’re sleepin like a baby on the nickel over there
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| And if you chew tobacco, and wish upon a star
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| You’ll find out where the scarecrows sit just like punch lines between the cars
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| And I know a place where a royal flush can never beat a pair
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| And even Thomas Jefferson is on the nickel over there
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| So ring around the rosie, sleepin in the rain
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| And you’re always late for supper, man you let me down, let me down again
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| And I thought I heard a mockingbird, Roosevelt knows where
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| You can skip the light with Grady Tuck on the nickel over there
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| So what becomes of all the little boys who run away from home?
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| The world just keeps gettin bigger once you get out on your own
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| So here’s to all the little boys, the sandman takes you where
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| You’re sleepin with a pillow man on the nickel over there
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| So climb up through that button hole and fall right up the stairs
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| And I’ll show you where the short dogs grow on the nickel
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| Over there |