JANE DOWN THE LANE
When I was sixteen, I was terribly keen
On a girl called Jane from down the lane.
Hooked by her looks, if you know what I mean.
But sadly I was far too shy
And let my chances pass me by with Jane.
When I tried, my tongue was tied. Oh why oh why?
I still fantasize about those eyes of deepest blue.
Try as I might, can’t quite forget the pain.
All right, I know, I must let go now I’m eighty-two
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