| Hearken to the sweet leaves
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| That dance so merrily
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| I wish the wind would do the same for me.
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| But rooted here like a withered tree am I,
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| And I watch both day and night pass by.
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| It was a cruel and wicked master,
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| Stole my freedom and charged me To fight for him, win him victory.
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| And now here am I in a damp and dreary cell,
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| And all I know of time is the church bell.
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| Moonshine soft and clear,
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| In a death-black endless sky,
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| Cartwheelin' bright stars twinklin' down.
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| From the shadows calls the night owl,
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| He’s echoing my loneliness.
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| Come the stag down from the mountain,
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| Come the owl from where he sleeps,
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| Come the eagle from his high, high nest,
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| To where the salmon, they swim and they sleep,
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| Come fast and hope to set me free.
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| I dream of waters flowing,
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| Sweet air to softly breathe,
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| Of meadowland where the wagtail bobs and weaves,
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| Of sunny days where children dance and play,
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| And sweet music to drive my grief away. |