| Lightning spoke to the wind, «The devil’s in me today, my friend
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| Do you see that old oak tree down yonder?
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| Blow like hell and bring down thunder
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| When your raging’s through, I’ll cut that oak in two»
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| The wind began to moan, the old oak tree began to groan
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| Thunder raged like hell’s own daughter
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| The air was filled with fire and water
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| Laughing viciously, lightning struck that tree
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| The old oak tree began to shudder
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| But he held his ground like some old soldier
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| His ancient pride was burnt and shaken
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| But something deep inside did waken
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| He raised his limbs just like Moses
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| And blossomed roses
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| He blossomed roses
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| He blossomed roses
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| The sky is clear, the air is clean
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| The earth is brown, the forest green
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| The ancient oak he still is standing
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| With strength surpassing understanding
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| Like dreams a noble mind composes, he blossoms roses
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| He blossoms roses, roses, roses, roses |