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She was sick and tired of country life. |
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A little country home, |
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A little country folk, |
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Made her blood run cold. |
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Now her mother pines her heart away, |
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Looking for her child in the big black smoke, |
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In the big black smoke. |
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Frailest, purest girl the world has seen, |
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According to her ma, according to her pa, |
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And everybody said, |
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That she knew no sin and did no wrong, |
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Till she walked the streets of the big black smoke, |
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Of the big black smoke. |
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Well, she slept in caffs and coffee bars and bowling alleys, |
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And every penny she had |
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Was spent on purple hearts and cigarettes. |
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She took all her pretty coloured clothes, |
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And ran away from home |
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And the boy next door, |
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For a boy named joe. |
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And he took her money for the rent |
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And tried to drag her down in the big black smoke, |
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In the big black smoke. |
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In the big black smoke. |
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In the big black smoke. |