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Fine Feathers Lyrics
O knave am I, and a confidence man, to steal both your plot and your plan.
But if I'm to die, then I'd rather I be hanged as a sheep for a lamb.
My gossiping grandmother, gossamer gatherer,
Gave up my globetrotting gun-running grandfather;
A blunder that bothered my father forever,
I bet you my bottom and most valued dollar.
He soberly suffers his swindling
Son-singer; O his family suffered, take me at my word.
And my father's four forfeitures may ruffle my
Feathers, but fine feathers, my friend, do not make a fine bird.
Make no mistake, for heaven's sake; I let the chips fall as they may.
But make no mistake,
Making mistakes is a game at which many can play.
My father's father, and his father's father,
And his father's father, a fraud and finagler.
Even carpenter, conjurer, cadaver, converter,
What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.
Though I may be too ruffled to resemble either,
I catch all the worms and I eat all my words,
And much like one swallow does not make a summer;
Fine feathers, my friend, do not make a fine bird.
But if I'm to die, then I'd rather I be hanged as a sheep for a lamb.
My gossiping grandmother, gossamer gatherer,
Gave up my globetrotting gun-running grandfather;
A blunder that bothered my father forever,
I bet you my bottom and most valued dollar.
He soberly suffers his swindling
Son-singer; O his family suffered, take me at my word.
And my father's four forfeitures may ruffle my
Feathers, but fine feathers, my friend, do not make a fine bird.
But make no mistake,
Making mistakes is a game at which many can play.
My father's father, and his father's father,
And his father's father, a fraud and finagler.
Even carpenter, conjurer, cadaver, converter,
What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.
Though I may be too ruffled to resemble either,
I catch all the worms and I eat all my words,
And much like one swallow does not make a summer;
Fine feathers, my friend, do not make a fine bird.
Song Info
Submitted by
username-ben On May 19, 2019
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