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I gotta take care of mine.
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Real good.
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No crying, hear?
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No crying.
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Don't you cry.
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As I stand by the bayou, I watch a ship as she disappears.
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There, she is gone.
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And we cry for this.
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But she's not gone.
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She's just as real as when she left me.
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And somewhere else, other voices are calling out:
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"Here she comes."