In England's pleasant green
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Like a picture postcard scene
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To childhood spread with fond maternal care
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From the day that he was born
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Proud relations came to fawn
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And compliment his pretty golden hair
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In boyhood sent away
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To a boarding school to stay
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Its crumbling proud traditions forced to bear
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And his friends in this new world
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Said he looks more like a girl
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With those blue eyes and pretty golden hair
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Fades secluded youth
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Into manhood's search for truth
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His mother's eyes now wet had turned to stare
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For he said I must be bound
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This day for London town
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For I believe my fortune's waiting there
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So like an eager cutting knife
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He plunged in a new life
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Oh never known beforehand anywhere
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And the thought that he might trip
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In his ignorance and slip
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Never struck beneath his pretty golden hair
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Ah the days soon grew thin
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And boredom fast set in
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His job was thrown away without a care
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For a man who softly said
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You'll earn twice as much instead
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With those blue eyes and pretty golden hair
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Well London town possessed
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Of many a tempter's nest
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And thus he fell with scarce another care
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As so easily he slipped
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Into prostitution's grip
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Foundationed by his pretty golden hair
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Ah but the years quickly flew
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And his mind slowly grew
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From early freedom into deep despair
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As the money ceased to roll
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A tired and lonely soul
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Poured curses on his pretty golden hair
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Ah the years stole their time
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Now the living's hard to find
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And early friends have vanished in the air
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And the gay parties's ease
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Changed to public lavatories
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Have turned to grey his pretty golden hair
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Oh his life was only used
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And his body just abused
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By those who never think and never care
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But though his file said suicide
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No, that wasn't why he died
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It was murder by his pretty golden hair
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Pretty Golden Hair
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Al Stewart |