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All the good times are past and gone |
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All the good times are past and gone |
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All the good times are past and gone |
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What's left for a poor boy to do? |
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I can still see my mama bend over that ol' washpot |
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And it's so doggone cold you could nearly freeze on the spot |
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My pa eatin' them flapjacks and yellin' for more |
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And the kids makin' tracks across mama's clean floor. |
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But all them good times are past and gone now |
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All the good times are gone. |
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Well, you could look for miles down a winding railroad track |
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And see train a leavin' and hear one comin' back |
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And with a cloud of blue up over your head |
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It's like something from a storybook that you once read. |
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But all them good times are past and gone |
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Now all the good times are gone |
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All the good times are past and gone |
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What's left for a poor boy to do? |
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And go down on that river when the big boats make their run |
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And the canepoles grow so thick they block up the sun |
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Just smell that coffee boilin' in an old tin can |
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And that hot grease poppin' in the fryin' pan. |
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But all them good times are past and gone |
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Now all them good times are gone |
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All the good times are past and gone |
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What's left for a poor boy to do?... |