| His name is Mister Snow
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| And an up-standed man is he
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| He comes home every night in his round-bottomed boat
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| With a net full of herring from the sea
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| An almost perfect beau
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| As refined as a girl could wish
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| But he spends so much time in his round-bottomed boat
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| That he can’t seem to lose the smell of fish
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| The first time he kissed me the whiff from his clothes
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| Knocked me flat on the floor of the room
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| But now that I love him, my heart’s in my nose
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| And fish is my fav’rite perfume!
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| Last night he spoke quite low
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| And a fair-spoken man is he
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| And he said «Miss Pipperidge, I’d like it fine
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| If I could be wed with a wife
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| And indeed, Miss Pipperidge, if you’ll be mine
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| I’ll be yours for the rest of my life.»
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| Next moment we were promised
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| And now my mind’s in a maze
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| For all it can do is look forward to
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| That wonderful day of days!
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| When I marry Mister Snow
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| The flowers’ll be buzzin' with the hum of bees
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| The birds’ll make racket in the church yard trees
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| When I marry Mister Snow
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| Then it’s off to home we’ll go
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| And both of us’ll look a little dreamy-eyed
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| A driving to a cottage by the Oceanside
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| Where the salty breezes blow
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| He’ll carry me 'cross the threshold
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| And I’ll be as meek as a lamb
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| Then he’ll set me on my feet
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| And I’ll say kinda sweet
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| «Well, Mister Snow, here I am.»
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| Then I’ll kiss him so he’ll know
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| That evry’thin’ll be as right as right can be
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| A living in a cottage by the sea with me
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| For I love that Mister Snow
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| That young sea-faring
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| Bold and daring
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| Big bewhiskered, overbearing
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| Darling Mister Snow |