cloudy eyes well and the apples go brown

belly-aches echo that old-faithful sound

this crown was a friend and a real spirit-guide

until I passed up all the chances to find

in any nice store the boots I fit in

while anywhere-but-here are words we still sing

and every which way you may look at it now

our quiet was quite overcome by the sound

and these are the thoughts of every everyman

I’m no innovator with a right to demand

that others should go for it; take some great stand

but long before summer has even begun

you’ll hear the old standards are still being sung


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