| You’ll walk unscathed through musket fire
|
| No ploughman’s blade will cut thee down
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| No cutless wound will mark thy face
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| And you will be my ain true love
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| And you will be my ain true love
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| And as you walk through death’s dark veil
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| The cannon’s thunder can’t prevail
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| And those who hunt thee down will fail
|
| And you will be my ain true love
|
| And you will be my ain true love
|
| Asleep inside the cannon’s mouth
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| The captain cries, «Here comes the rout,»
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| They’ll seek to find me north and south
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| I’ve gone to find my ain true love
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| The field is cut and bleeds to red
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| The cannon balls fly round my head
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| The infirmary man may count me dead
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| When I’ve gone to find my ain true love
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| I’ve gone to find my ain true love |