| Nautical Wheelers who call themselves sailors
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| Play fiddle tunes under the stars.
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| Petticoats rustle, working shoes scuffle,
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| Hustle on down to the bars.
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| Where the jukebox is blastin'
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| and the liquor is flowing
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| an occasional bottle of wine.
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| That’s cause everyone here is just more than
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| contented to be living and dying in three quarter time.
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| And It’s dance with me, dance with me
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| Nautical Wheelers.
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| Take me to stars that you know.
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| Come on and dance with me,
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| Nautical Wheelers
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| I want so badly to go.
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| Well the left foot it’ll follow where the
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| Right foot has traveled down to the
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| Sidewalks unglued.
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| And into the street of my city so neat,
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| Where nobody cares what you do.
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| And Sonna’s just grinnin'
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| And Phil is ecstatic and
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| Mason has jumped in the sea.
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| While I’m hangin' on to a line
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| from my sailboat oh,
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| Nautical Wheelers save me.
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| Well the sunrise’ll bring on the
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| sleep that’s escaped us and
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| everyone’s off to their bed.
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| There’ll be huggin' and squeezin',
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| a little pleasin' and teasin'
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| and rubbin' of each others' head.
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| So won’t you dream on comrades;
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| seems nothing affects you,
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| nothing, no reason nor rhyme.
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| That’s cause everyone here is just more than
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| contented to be living and dying in three quarter time. |