.Wie die FuÃgänger schimpfen
In den klitschnassen Strümpfen,
Denn der Regen rinnt über'n Asphalt.
Was füare Augen sie machen,
Denn sie sehen mich lachen
An 'nem Tag, der so trübe und kalt.
Ich bin so glücklich,
Ich spiel füare alle
Ziehharmonika, na klar.<.>
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