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Arrivederci

par Shivaree

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Arrivederci I´m cutting my hair
Tell fish and Tracy the weathers fair
Been eleven hours were on a dare
Arrivederci to my old chair
I´ve been told that the old who bargain and save
They get sold
For the gold
On the little kings grave
So goodbye to screamers
And goodnight Irene
A salty whisker won´t hurt anything
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