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CONEY ISLAND Al Jolson Every summer we go down to Deauville by the sea Where one can rub his shoulders with a king St. Moritz in wintertime, ah that’s the place to be And then to Paris in the spring Where one can have his little fling Though Normandy is lovely in November Somehow it leaves you nothing to remember ^I can’t forget the night I met you down at Coney…Island Gee, I was proud you picked me from the crowd at Coney…Island And very soon I proved to you that my intentions weren’t phoney It ended in ma…tri...mo...ny And now we’re eating caviar instead of macaroni But I recall those picnic lunches a baloney with a smile I guess I’m still a hick ‘Cause I still get a kick Just loving you while scrumming through the crowd At Coney Isle

    


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