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'I'm Popeye the sailorman'
Or whichever old tune he sang
Spiced up with a few hot damns
The sailorman
He made a comely row of trees
On each side of the country road
So that a daily sort of man
Driving beneath them in his lumber wagon
Might fancy himself lord of a private road
Right after the first few notes
All the goats turned their heads
They would get fed
He was a tall lanky guy
With stooped shoulders and a shy seemed studious face
'Popeye the Sailorman'
'I'm Popeye the sailorman'   Or whichever old tune he sang   Spiced up with a few hot damns   The sailorman   He made a comely row of trees   On each side of the country road   So that a daily sort of man   Driving beneath them in his lumber wagon   Might fancy himself lord of a private road   Right after the first few notes   All the goats turned their heads   They would get fed   He was a tall lanky guy   With stooped shoulders and a shy seemed studious face   'Popeye the Sailorman'