| Somewhat overwhelmed by the enormous dimensions of her lovely breast
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| The rector turned his face from Mother Nature back to God
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| «Therefore, in the shadow of the valley we are truly truly blessed-
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| We now return our brother to the sod!»
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| Poor old Ned!-who worked the line six days a week
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| Yes poor old Ned!-words come to mind you start to speak
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| And when it’s said-the rain is falling you recall how
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| Poor old Ned! |
| is surely dead!
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| Then they brought him home to that old bosky dell
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| He knew so very well
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| And laid him down for succor simply in a box of Southern pine
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| This was past the oxbow of the river where we
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| Used to fish a spell
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| And wish that rising sun would ever shine
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| And sing Crying time and sing Crying Time and sing Crying Time
|
| And sing Crying Time and sing Crying Time and sing Crying Time
|
| Old Ned was a veteran and better an the best in forty-one
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| When blue Hawaii glistened like a diamond lights the sun
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| That said, when teh Nissan plant was built down by the run
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| He knew his life had only just begun
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| Poor old Ned!-a child tugs on a tattered sleeve
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| Yes poor old Ned!-and piled back in they start to leave
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| And poor old Ned!-will bring into that night one white
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| Chrysanthemum-His kingdom come!
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| And sing Crying time and sing Crying Time and sing Crying Time
|
| And sing Crying Time and sing Crying Time and sing Crying Time |