| Adieu, my lovely Nancy
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| Ten thousand times adieu
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| I’ll be thinking of my own true love
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| I’ll be thinking, dear, of you
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| Will you change your ring with me, my love?
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| Will you change your ring with me?
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| It will be a token of our love
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| When I am far at sea
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| When I am far away from home
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| And you know not where I am
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| Love letters I will write to you
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| From every foreign strand
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| When the farmer boys return at night
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| They will tell their girls fine tales
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| Of all that they’ve been doing
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| All day out in the fields
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| Of the wheat and hay that they cut down
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| Sure it’s all that they can do
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| While we poor jolly, jolly hearts of oak
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| Must plow the seas all through
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| And when we return again, my love
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| To our own dear native shore
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| Fine stories we will tell to you
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| How we plowed the oceans o’er
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| And we’ll make the alehouses to ring
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| And the taverns, they will roar
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| And when our money is all gone
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| Sure we’ll go to sea for more |