| When I was a child, my mother
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| Would tug me in bed
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| And each night, as she kissed me
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| These are the words that she said
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| Don’t go to bed with strangers
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| Don’t play with the dead
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| And always keep you «wits»
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| Sharp as an axe, inside the shed
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| «Jai di di dai»
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| When I was just a schoolboy
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| My father, he spoken to me
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| He said: «Boy -chid my son, don’t trust anyone
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| And remember that nothing is free»
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| And the world is full of strangers
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| The world is full of dread
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| The world is full, of sharpened «wits»
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| And millions of tears you will shed
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| «Jai di di dai»
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| Well when I was a young man
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| My professor at University
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| Say advise is corrupting
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| Don’t ever be trusting
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| Don’t show your emotions
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| Human suffering is an ocean
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| And it’s dark, at the bottom of the sea
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| And there is no such thing as a stranger
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| We are all equally backwards and wrong
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| Sharpen axes, not «wits»
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| Bones are broken by sticks
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| And you’ll never be free 'till you’re strong
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| «Jai di di dai»
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| Well young man grow older
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| And the world gets colder
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| Though it was never warm to begin
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| Don’t let down your guard
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| For the reaper works hard
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| And he will not take pause 'till you’re dead
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| Now I’m old and I’m rusty
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| My troubles like sand on the beach
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| They can’t be calculated
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| I always have waited
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| For something, just out of reach
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| And I, to myself, am a stranger
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| My heart is «lighter than lead»
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| My world is astounding
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| With misery abounding
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| There’s only one thing to be said
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| I say: «Jai di di dai»
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| (other) «Jai di di dai» |