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Well, the pretty girl |
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Is like a little bird: |
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Well, she's tender and she's shy. |
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And ya never know |
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If she loves you |
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Til she's gone flyin' by. |
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Flyin' by-y! |
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Flyin' by-y! |
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Til she's gone flyin' by. |
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Flyin' by, Love, flyin' by! |
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Til she's gone flyin' by. |
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|
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Now I often |
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have wondered: |
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"What makes women love men?" |
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Then I've looked back |
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And I've wondered: |
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"What makes man love them?" |
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But now I see: |
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This one's for me! |
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And I'll love her till I die. |
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Yes, now I see: |
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This one's for me! |
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And I'll love her till I die. |
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|
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Now the coo-coo |
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Is a pretty bird, |
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And the mockin' bird, |
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She is, too. |
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And they both sing |
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In the summertime, |
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Singin', "Darlin', I love you. |
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I love you-u! |
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I love you!" |
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Singin', "Darlin', I love you! |
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I love you, Babe! |
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I love you!" |
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Singin', "Darlin', I love you! |
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I love you,(I love you,) |
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I love you,(I love you,) |
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I love you,(I love you,) |
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I love you. |