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Maybe grow too tired or old.
Maybe they just lay to look.
While we were young, we all laughed and we sung.
Now we've been beat by work.
Oh, he just waits, he just hopes, and he prays.
But the more she is loved she hurts. . .
It's rude to rile her up.
Those fools for god don't love another's touch.
Making babies for good or grief?
To these types of fools he pleads,
"If beggars aren't loved they leave!"
She learned it from a book.
Suiters approach, receive dirty looks.
Calling on her for good or grief.
These types of fools who beg and never read.
Other Horse Feathers Lyrics
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