| When I was a bachelor, I liv’d all alone
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| I worked at the weaver’s trade
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| And the only, only thing that I did that was wrong
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| Was to woo a fair young maid.
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| I wooed her in the wintertime
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| Part of the summer, too
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| And the only, only thing that I did that was wrong
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| Was to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.
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| One night she knelt close by my side
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| When I was fast asleep.
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| She threw her arms around my neck
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| And she began to weep.
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| She wept, she cried, she tore her hair
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| Ah, me! |
| What could I do?
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| So all night long I held her in my arms
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| Just to keep her from the foggy foggy dew.
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| Again I am a bachelor, I live with my son
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| We work at the weaver’s trade.
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| And every sing time I look into his eyes
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| He reminds me of that fair young maid.
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| He reminds me of the wintertime
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| Part of the summer, too,
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| And the many, many times that I held her in my arms
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| Just to keep her from the foggy, foggy, dew |