My days are gone a-wandering.
Brother humans who live after us, do not harden your hearts against us.
Blonde or brunette, this rhyme applies, happy is he who knows them not.
Good talkers are only found in Paris.
We were two and had but one heart between us.
But where are the snows of yesteryear?
I know all except myself.
Ah God! Had I but studied in the days of my foolish youth.
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