| Down in the willow garden
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| Where me and my love did meet
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| There we sat a-courtin'
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| My love went off to sleep
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| I had a bottle of Burgundy wine
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| My true love she did not know
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| And there I poisoned that dear little girl
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| Down under the banks below
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| I stabbed her with my dagger
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| Which was a bloody knife
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| I threw her into the river
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| Which was a dreadful sign
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| My father often told me
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| That money would set me free
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| If I would murder that dear little girl
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| Whose name was Rose Connolly
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| And now he sits be his own cottage door
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| Wiping his tear-dimmed eyes
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| And now he waits for his own dear son
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| Upon the scaffold high
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| My race is run, beneath the sun
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| The hell’s now waiting for me
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| For I have murdered that dear little girl
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| Whose name was Rose Connelly |