Lyrics
POOR DONALSDīS TALE
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One night throught the black,
poor Donald hunch back,
his cart down the glenside was bringing;
when he heard the sweet sound
of the fairies arounand this is the sonf thwey were singing.
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday.
He stopped his track
poor Donald hunch back,
at the voices so beautifully blending.
Throught the music was sweet
it was quite incomplete,
for they couldnīt remember the ending.
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday.
Thought poor Donald was shy,
he could never stand by
and leave their frustrations unheeded;
So he stified his fear
and he sang soft and clear,
adding the word that they needed.
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday, and wednesday.
And the fairies were glad,
and so grateful he had
put an end to the song they were voicing,
With their magical knack
took the hump from his back
and Donald went homeward rejoicing.
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday,
Monday, Tuesday.
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