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I remember Christmas morning Back in 1954 When we moved up to Mount Savage As if it mattered anymore Mama always said How the air can clear her head We were colder and much higher Than we ever were before I recall her tailored jersey And the flowers that she wore Years ago I tried to tell her What was in my heart But she was part of the city She took a little with sugar She took the money from my old man She took a little with sugar She took the money from my old man All the years that she was with us You could count them on one hand I was taken with her showboat style But too young to understand She was all alone Ahead of her time She was first generation [Chorus, and variations of it, to fade] Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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