Strong rough hands seized the shiny wood Carried her on stage and there she stood Every time when she performed The audience smiled or cried But after years of cheers and fame Her sound got old and died
Na, na, na, na Na, na, na , na
Strong rough hands seized the shabby wood Took here there, where she would stay for good Her study was her destiny Children used to say You are still a queen for us So teach us how to play