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Oh, I used to wish I was a hard line taker ... and they'd say, |
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"Six to one a half dozen'll break her", |
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'till I fell in love with a young man who sang the blues |
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Oh, bless my daddy, he warned me well |
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He'd whisper in my ear and say, "Now look out, gal ... |
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there's always a ne'er do well gonna call you the fool" |
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He said, "you'll never learn to fish on a borrowed line |
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you'll never learn to write if you're walkin' 'round cryin' |
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and it's a pity that you're lover died young, but ... |
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you'll never get tired of livin' alone". |
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So, now I dream of the lover that I don't know |
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It's safer this way 'cuz I don't have to go ... oh, and he |
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won't come ... so nobody goes away |
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Sometimes I wish for the warmth of his hand |
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take a look in these eyes and understand |
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I'm just a little too old to be a-learnin' the rules of the game |
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He said, "you'll never learn to fish on a borrowed line |
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you'll never learn to write if you're walkin' 'round cryin' |
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and it's a pity that you're lover died young, but ... |
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you'll never get tired of livin' alone". |
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Oh, maybe I could take him to Mexico |
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We'd kick our heels in the warm cloudy gulf |
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He'd sing a song about the weather in the Poconos; |
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this lover that I don't know |
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Then two hearts would pound 'stead of one in the night |
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I'd learn to fish with my own line |
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catch my dream and hope that line would hold |
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He said, "you'll never learn to fish on a borrowed line |
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you'll never learn to write if you're walkin' 'round cryin' |
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and it's a pity that you're lover died young, but ... |
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you'll never get tired of livin' alone". |
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No, I never get tired of livin' alone |
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Sometimes my feet get cold ... when I'm livin' alone .. |