You sit there in crying, braiding your hair,
You say you got trouble, my friend has a fair,
Don't tell me your troubles, I got enough of my own,
Be thankful for living, drink up and go home.
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Now there is still some blind man, blind he can't see,
You think he's complaining, why should you appeal?
Don't tell me your troubles, I got enough of my own,
Be thankful for living, drink up and go home.