Oh puddling, squaddling sugar tins
With stars in jars that burn and spin
and canes of sugar, beets and pearl
You’ve gone to limits lost the world
Of days in August, hot and moist
And shining water’s misty voice
You slid the upper, stayed the low
And what’s the silver got to show?
I lost my nails in World War II
Oh stay my fake, I stayed with you
You tricked the smith and stayed for show
Oh tell me darling where’d you go?
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