| Oh, Danny Boy The Pipes, the pipes are calling
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| from glen to glen, and down the mountainside
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| the summer’s gone and all the flowers are dying
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| Tis you, Tis you, must go and I must bide
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| But Come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
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| Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
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| Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
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| Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy
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| I love you so
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| And if you come, when the all flowers are dying
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| If I am dead, as dead I well may be
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| You’ll come and find, the place where I am lying
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| and kneel and say, an ave there for me
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| And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me
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| And all my grave will warmer sweeter be
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| And then you’ll kneel and whisper that you love me
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| and I shall sleep in peace until you come |