| There’s a little Rosewood casket
|
| Settin’on a marble stand
|
| There’s a package of love letters
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| Written by my true love’s hand
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| Go and bring them to me, brother
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| Come and set upon my bed
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| Lay your head upon my pillow
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| While my aching heart grows dead.
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| Read them gently to me, brother
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| Read them til I fall asleep
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| Fall asleep to wake in heaven
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| Oh, Dear brother, do not weep.
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| Last Sunday I saw her walking
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| With a gentleman by her side
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| And I thought I heard him tell her
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| She was soon to be his bride.
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| When I’m dead and in my coffin
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| And my friends have gathered 'round
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| And my narrow grave is ready
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| In some lonesome churchyard ground.
|
| There’s a little Rosewood casket
|
| Settin’on a marble stand
|
| There’s a package of love letters
|
| Written by my true love’s hand. |