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there's a sailor who sings
of the dreams that he brings
from the wide open sea
and he cries and he drinks and he drinks
and he drinks to the whores of amsterdam
who've given their bodies
to a thousand other men
for a few dirty coins
and they dance
and they laugh and they lust
till the rancid sound of the accordion
bursts
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and they dream and they sleep
while the river bank weeps
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