| A little unexpected, a little lame
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| Sir John returned home from the campaign.
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| A candle burned outside the balcony window,
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| Must be milady, must be milady
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| Prayed for him.
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| Praise the Almighty, praise!
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| She was waiting for him, waiting.
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| But can a wife wait
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| When will the war end?
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| Sir John runs up the steps, rattling,
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| But the door was locked and the candle went out.
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| He knocks on the door with an iron foot,
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| A jumps into a flower bed, and jumps into a flower bed
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| From another balcony.
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| Praise the Almighty, praise!
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| She was waiting for him, waiting.
|
| But can a wife wait
|
| When will the war end?
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| Milady said, hiding her fear:
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| Yes, the door is open, come in, my friend.
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| Oh, how many there were and will be losses!
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| No need to break, no need to break
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| To the open door.
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| Praise the Almighty, praise!
|
| She was waiting for him, waiting.
|
| But can a wife wait
|
| When will the war end?
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| And again love, and a portrait under the crown
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| It hangs where it used to, and that's it.
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| Like this, without thinking, Sir John in the old days
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| With my suspicion, with my suspicion
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| Offended his wife.
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| And still -
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| Praise the Almighty, praise!
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| She was waiting for him, waiting.
|
| But can a wife wait
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| When will this damn war end? |