Often the boys so hardy,
try to forget the adulthood a while
Thus they go naughty,
and with games they take a trial
But I don't remember my bliss,
when it was twenty one or less
And for the little home I lay,
in Avenue fifty one, that I miss
Mind me not, and bear with me,
the falling tears upon the cheek
How dear should a memory be,
if it doesn't make the heart a bleak?
Thus, ring a bell O my mate,
and for memories open a gate
Then let's sing a song of tears,
and for Avenue fifty one, I shall await
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