| I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,
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| Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air;
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| I see her tripping where the bright streams play,
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| Happy as the daisies that dance on her way.
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| Many were the wild notes her merry voice would pour,
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| Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o’er:
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| Oh! |
| I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,
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| Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.
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| I long for Jeanie with the daydawn smile,
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| Radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile;
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| I hear her melodies, like joys gone by,
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| Sighing round my heart o’er the fond hopes that die:
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| Sighing like the night wind and sobbing like the rain,
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| Wailing for the lost one that comes not again:
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| Oh! |
| I long for Jeanie, and my heart bows low,
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| Never more to find her where the bright waters flow.
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| I sigh for Jeanie, but her light form strayed
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| Far from the fond hearts round her native glade;
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| Her smiles have vanished and her sweet songs flown,
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| Flitting like the dreams that have cheered us and gone.
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| Now the nodding wild flowers may wither on the shore |
| While her gentle fingers will cull them no more:
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| Oh! |
| I sigh for Jeanie with the light brown hair,
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| Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air. |