| In a land of O’Cahan where bleak mountains rise
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| O’er those brown ridgy tops now the dusky clouds fly
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| Deep sunk in a valley a wild flower did grow
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| And her name was Finvola, the Gem of the Roe
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| For the Isles of Abunde appeared to out view
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| A youth clad in tartan, it’s strange but it’s true
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| With a star on his breast and unstrung was his bow
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| And he sighed for Finvola the Gem of the Roe
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| The Gem of the Roe, the Gem of the Roe
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| And he sighed for Finvola
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| The Gem of the Roe
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| To the grey shores of Alba his bride he did bear
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| But short were the fond years these lovers did share
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| For thrice on the hillside the Banshee cried low
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| Twas the death of Finvola the Gem of the Roe
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| The Gem of the Roe, the Gem of the Roe
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| Twas the death of Finvola
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| The Gem of the Roe
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| No more up the streamlet her maidens will hie
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| For wan the pale cheek and bedimmed the blue eye
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| In silent affliction our sorrows will flow
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| Since gone is Finvola the Gem of the Roe
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| The Gem of the Roe, the Gem of the Roe
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| Since gone is Finvola
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| The Gem of the Roe |