The old wolf sniffs the summer breeze, and dreams about
For the sight of skirts above the knees turns his
hardboiled brain to tears.
And the scent of honey in the tree whets an old sweet
The pretty girls go strolling by, I smile at them, and
heave a sigh.
And think of all the things I've missed, and all the
pretty girls I've never kissed.
They smile from field of daffodils, they wave from high
and windy hills,
In secret places by the sea, the girls I've never kissed
still wait for me.
All the girls whose names I can't recall, their faces
haunt me still,
All the pretty girls I've never kissed and never will.
The girls of spring, the girls of fall, the girls of
summer most of all,
If only time did not exist, if only I could catch that
boat I always missed,
I'd go back and kiss all the pretty girls I've never
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